DOW  OF 
TORY 


IV 


By  MYRTLE  REED 


LOVE  LETTERS  OF  A  MUSICIAN 
LATER  LOVE  LETTERS  OF  A  MUSICIAN 
THE  SPINSTER  BOOK 
LAVENDER  AND  OLD  LACE 
THE  SHADOW  OF  VICTORY 
PICKABACK  SONGS 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
New  York  London 


THE  SHADOW  OF 
VICTORY 

A  ROMANCE  OF  FORT  DEARBORN 


MYRTLE  REED 

"An  arrow  sang-  past  her,  then  another 
just  missed  her,  and  she  leaned  forward,  close 
to  the  horse." 

(page 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

Cbe  Itnicfcerbocfcer  press 
1903 


nA" 

r 

ff    Sfb    03 


THE  SHADOW  OF 
VICTORY 

A  ROMANCE  OF  FORT  DEARBORN 


BY 

MYRTLE  REED 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

Gbe  Ifcnicfeerbocfeer  press 

1903 


COPYRIGHT,  1003 

BY 
MYRTLE  REED 

Published,  September,  1903 


Ube  Unicfcetbocfcer  press,  Hew 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — THE  PROPHECY           .         .         .  .         i 

II. — NEW  ACQUAINTANCES         .  21 

III. — THE  SECOND  IN  COMMAND           .  .       37 

IV. — RONALD'S  VIEWS  OF  MARRIAGE  .       54 

V. — THE  FIRST  FLOWER  OF  SPRING  .  .       69 

VI. — COUSINS      .         .         .         .         .  .85 

VII. — THE  ALARM         .         .         .         .  .     102 

VIII. — THOROUGHBREDS         .         .         .  .118 

IX. — ON  THE  FORT  WAYNE  TRAIL       .  .     134 

X. — A  GLEAM  AFAR  .         .         .         .  .150 

XI. — A  JUNE  DAY       .         .         .         .  .     165 

XII. — IN  THE  NORTH  WOODS        .         .  .     182 

XIII.— GIFTS 198 

XIV.— HEART'S  DESIRE         .         .         .  .216 

XV. — RIVALS 234 

XVI.— THE  WORM  TURNS      .         .         .  .251 


M536326 


IV 


Contents 


CHAPTER 

XVII.  —  A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR    . 

.     268 

XVIII.  —  "  IF  I  WERE  IN  COMMAND  " 

.     285 

XIX.  —  SAVED  FROM  HIMSELF         . 

-     3°° 

XX.  —  RECONCILIATION 

•     3i8 

XXI.—  THE  LAST  DAY  IN  THE  FORT 

..     336 

XXII.—  THE  RED  DEATH        . 

"  •     359 

380 

XXIV.—  THE  REPRIEVE   .... 

•     397 

THE  SHADOW  OF  VICTORY 


THE  SHADOW  OF  VICTORY 


CHAPTER  I 

THE    PROPHECY 

IT  was  a  long,  low  room,  with  a  fireplace,  roughly 
built  of  limestone,  at  one  end  of  it.  The 
blazing  logs  illuminated  one  corner  and  sent 
strange  shadows  into  the  others,  while  the  winter 
wind  moaned  drearily  outside.  At  the  right  and 
left  of  the  fireplace  were  rude  counters,  hewn 
from  logs,  resting  on  stumps  of  unequal  height, 
and  behind  them  were  shelves,  packed  with  the 
sordid  miscellany  of  a  frontier  trading-post.  A 
closed  door  on  either  side  seemingly  led  to  other 
apartments,  but  there  was  no  sound  save  the  wind 
and  the  crackle  of  the  flames. 

A  candle,  thrust  into  the  broken  neck  of  a 
bottle,  gave  a  feeble  light  to  a  little  space  around 
one  end  of  the  counter  on  which  it  stood.  The 


2  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

rafters  were  low — so  low  that  a  tall  man,  stand 
ing  on  tiptoe,  might  easily  unhook  the  smoked 
hams  and  sides  of  bacon  that  hung  there,  sway 
ing  back  and  forth  when  the  wind  shook  the 
house. 

Walls,  ceiling,  and  floor  were  of  logs,  cut  into 
a  semblance  of  smoothness.  The  chinks  were 
plastered  with  a  bluish  clay,  and  the  crevices  in 
the  floor  were  filled  with  a  mixture  of  clay  and 
small  chips.  At  the  left  of  the  chimney  was  a 
rude  ladder  which  led  to  the  loft  through  an 
opening  in  the  ceiling.  Fingers  of  sleet  tapped 
at  the  glass,  swirling  phantoms  of  snow  drifted 
by,  pausing  for  a  moment  at  the  windows,  as  if 
to  look  within,  and  one  of  the  men  moved  his 
chair  closer  to  the  fire. 

"  You  fed  the  cattle,  did  n't  you,  Chan? "  The 
half-breed  grunted  assent. 

It  was  the  eldest  of  the  three  who  had  spoken. 
His  crouching  position  in  his  chair  partially  con 
cealed  his  great  height,  but  the  firelight  shone 
full  upon  his  iron-grey  hair  and  the  deep  lines 
seamed  upon  his  kindly  face.  His  hands  were 
rough  and  knotted,  his  fingers  straight  and 
square  at  the  tips — hands  without  beauty,  but 
full  of  strength. 

The  hand  which  rested  on  the  arm  of  the  chair 


The  Prophecy  3 

next  to  him  was  entirely  different.  It  was  fair 
and  smooth  and  slender,  with  tapering  ringers, 
and  with  the  outer  line  of  the  palm  delicately 
curved;  instinct  with  strength  of  another  sort, 
yet  gentle  almost  to  the  point  of  femininity. 
The  hand  accorded  ill  with  the  deep,  melodious 
voice  of  the  man,  when  he  said : 

"  Uncle,  you  don't  know  how  glad  I  am  to  be 
here  with  you  and  Aunt  Eleanor.  I  feel  as  if  I 
had  come  home  at  last,  after  many  wanderings." 

"You're  welcome,  my  boy,"  was  the  hearty 
answer.  "I  'm  glad  you  got  through  before  this 
storm  came,  'cause  travellin'  'cross  country  is  n't 
good  in  February,  as  a  rule.  Things  will  be 
closed  up  now  till  Spring." 

"And  then — what?"  asked  the  young  man. 

"Trains  of  pack-horses  from  Rock  River  and 
the  Illinois.  Canoes  and  a  bateau  from  Mil 
waukee,  in  charge  of  Canadian  engages.  Then 
the  vessel  from  Fort  Mackinac  with  goods  for  the 
trade,  and  Indians  from  all  over  creation.  The 
busy  season  begins  in  the  Spring." 

Chandonnais,  the  half-breed,  was  audibly  asleep 
in  his  warm  corner,  and  the  guest  arose  to  walk 
nervously  about  the  room.  He  was  clad  in  rusty 
black  broadcloth,  which  had  seen  all  of  its  best 
days  and  some  of  its  worst,  and  clung  closely  to 


4  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

his  tall,  lank  figure,  as  though  in  fear  of  the  ultim 
ate  separation.  His  hair  was  black  and  straight, 
his  eyes  deep  brown  and  strangely  luminous,  his 
mouth  sensitive,  and  his  face  very  pale.  He  was 
not  more  than  twenty-five  or  six,  and  looked  even 
younger. 

John  Mackenzie  quietly  watched  him  in  his  un 
easy  march  back  and  forth.  At  last  he  came  to 
the  fire,  stopped  short,  and  put  a  questioning 
finger  upon  the  limestone.  ''Here's  some  in 
itials,"  he  said.  "  J.  B.  P.  D.  S.—  what  does  that 
stand  for?" 

"Jean  Baptiste  Pointe  de  Saible,  I  reckon," 
replied  Mackenzie.  "He  built  this  cabin.  The 
Indians  say  that  the  first  white  man  here  was  a 
negro." 

"  P.  L.  M." — continued  the  young  man.  "  Who 
was  he?" 

"Pierre  Le  Mai,  I  guess — the  French  trader  I 
bought  the  place  from." 

"You  should  put  yours  here,  too,  Uncle." 

"  Not  I,  my  boy.  I  have  come  to  stay — and  my 
children  after  me." 

"  That  reminds  me  of  my  young  charge.  Shall 
we  begin  to-morrow  ? ' ' 

"As  you  like.  The  sooner  the  better,  I  sup 
pose.  You  brought  books,  did  n't  you?" 


The  Prophecy  5 

"  All  that  I  have;  not  many,  I  regret  to  say." 

"Johnny  has  a  spelling-book  that  came  from 
Mackinac  in  a  chest  of  green  tea,  when  the  vessel 
touched  here  last  year.  He  was  very  anxious 
then  to  know  what  was  inside  of  it,  but  I  don't 
know  how  he  feels  now." 

"  Have  you  any  special  instructions  for  me?" 

"No,"  answered  Mackenzie,  rising.  He  put 
his  hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder  and  looked 
down  into  his  face.  "I  never  had  much  book- 
learning,"  he  said,  "'cause  I  ran  away  from 
school,  but  I  want  that  my  son  should  have  it. 
Teach  him  everything  you  know  that  he  can 
learn;  it  won't  hurt  him  none.  Teach  him  to 
tell  the  truth,  to  be  afraid  of  nothing  but  dis 
honour,  and  to  be  kind  to  women.  You  look 
like  your  mother,  boy." 

The  door  opened  suddenly,  and  the  gust  of 
wind  that  came  in  with  it  put  out  the  candle  and 
filled  the  room  with  the  odour  of  burning  tallow. 
"How!"  grunted  a  stalwart  Indian,  in  general 
salutation. 

"How!"  responded  Mackenzie.  "What  is  it 
to-night?" 

The  savage  was  more  than  six  feet  in  height, 
and  looked  like  the  chief  that  he  was.  He  was 
dressed  from  head  to  foot  in  buckskin,  cunningly 


6  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

embroidered  and  beaded  by  a  squaw.  He  wore 
nothing  on  his  head,  but  a  brilliant  blanket  was 
draped  over  one  shoulder.  A  powder-horn  hung 
at  his  side  and  a  hunting-knife  gleamed  in  his 
belt. 

The  squaw  came  in  behind  her  lord  and  master, 
and  shut  the  door,  three  grey  wolf  skins  falling  to 
the  floor  as  she  did  so.  "  Shaw-ne-aw-kee,"  com 
manded  the  Indian,  pointing  to  Mackenzie. 

The  woman  obediently  laid  the  skins  upon  the 
counter,  and  Black  Partridge  began  to  bargain 
for  flour  and  bacon,  speaking  his  own  tongue. 
An  animated  conversation  ensued,  with  many 
gestures  on  the  part  of  the  Indian.  Mackenzie 
answered  quietly,  in  the  harsh  Pottawattomie 
dialect,  and  stood  his  ground.  The  chief  finally 
yielded,  with  a  good  grace  which  might  or  might 
not  have  been  genuine,  and  the  transfer  was 
accomplished. 

The  Indian  picked  up  one  of  the  skins  and 
pointed  to  a  blood  stain  near  the  top  of  it,  then 
began  to  talk  rapidly.  Mackenzie  listened  till  he 
had  finished  speaking,  then  turned  to  his  nephew. 

"Look  here,  Rob,"  he  said,  "this  will  interest 
you.  He  says  he  had  no  trap,  so  he  took  his  last 
piece  of  bacon  and  his  hunting-knife  and  went  up 
into  the  north  woods.  He  sat  down  under  a  tree 


The  Prophecy  7 

and  waited,  with  the  bacon  in  his  left  hand  and 
his  knife  in  his  right.  Presently  the  hungry  wolf 
appeared,  and,  after  due  investigation,  came  near 
enough  to  stab.  He  says  he  waited  from  mid 
night  till  almost  sunrise.  A  white  man  never 
could  do  that." 

"Hardly,"  returned  the  young  man,  fingering 
the  skin  curiously.  "What  monumental  pa 
tience!" 

This  speech,  with  a  little  additional  compliment, 
was  translated  for  the  benefit  of  Black  Partridge, 
whose  stolid  features  gleamed  momentarily,  then 
relapsed  into  impassive  bronze. 

A  cheery  whistle  was  heard  outside,  then  a 
stamp  upon  the  piazza,  a  merry  and  prolonged 
tapping,  reinforced  by  a  kick,  at  which  the  door 
burst  open,  and  a  young  soldier  entered. 

"Evening!"  he  shouted  to  Mackenzie.  He 
pounded  the  Indian  familiarly  on  the  back,  say 
ing,  "Hello,  Birdie,"  tweaked  the  squaw's  ear 
and  tickled  her  under  the  chin,  and  reached  the 
fire  before  any  one  else  had  time  to  speak. 

" Ronald,"  said  Mackenzie,  "this  is  my  nephew, 
Robert  Forsyth,  from  Detroit.  Mr.  Forsyth,  En 
sign  George  Ronald,  of  Fort  Dearborn." 

Ronald  drew  his  heels  together,  saluted  with 
mock  solemnity,  then  wrung  Forsyth 's  slender 


8  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

hand  in  a  grip  that  made  him  wince.  "  Proud  to 
know  you,  sir.  Third  in  command,  at  your  ser 
vice,  sir.  Have  you  come  to  enlist?" 

Chandonnais  awoke,  muttered  an  oath,  and 
ran  to  the  door,  shutting  it  noisily.  "  Your  par 
don,  sir,"  continued  Ronald.  "Wind  's  from  the 
south  this  evening.  Thought  I  'd  let  a  little 
warm  air  in.  Never  appreciated  in  this  world. 
Hope  I  may  be  in  the  next.  Do  I  speak  to  a 
soldier,  sir?" 

"No,"  laughed  Forsyth. 

"Who  's  the  lady  you  have  with  you,  Birdie?" 
asked  the  Ensign,  turning  to  the  Indian.  "Am  I 
mistaken  in  supposing  it  to  be  Mrs.  B.  Part 
ridge?" 

"Me  no  spik  Ingleesh,"  answered  the  chief, 
with  great  dignity. 

"Neither  do  I,  Birdie,  neither  do  I,"  continued 
the  soldier,  genially.  "  Devilish  language  with  all 
kinds  of  corners  in  it  to  hurt  yourself  on.  I  was 
pitched  into  it  headlong  the  day  of  my  arrival, 
and  have  been  at  sea  ever  since.  Don't  fool  with 
it,  Birdie.  You  're  getting  on  all  right  with  signs 
and  pictures  and  grunts,  and  if  Mrs.  B.  P.  does  n't 
speak  it,  why,  so  much  the  better.  Vast  re 
sources  in  the  language  known  to  women  only. 
What,  going  ?  Bye-bye ! ' ' 


The  Prophecy  9 

Another  breeze  from  the  south  entered  the 
room  as  Black  Partridge  and  the  squaw  made  a 
stately  exit,  the  woman  carrying  the  provisions 
for  which  the  wolf  skins  had  been  bartered. 

"  Ronald,"  began  Mackenzie,  drawing  another 
chair  from  behind  the  counter,  "  I  'd  advise  you 
to  be  more  careful  with  the  Indians.  They  're  a 
treacherous  crowd." 

"I  am  careful,"  answered  the  Ensign,  hurling 
a  very  shabby  overcoat  across  the  room,  and  sink 
ing  comfortably  into  Mackenzie's  chair.  "  That  's 
why  I  asked  about  Mrs.  B.  P.  You  see,  I  was 
skating  on  the  river  this  morning,  before  this  little 
snow  flurry  struck  us,  and  I  met  this  lady.  She 
seemed  to  want  to  go,  so  I  took  her  with  me.  She 
slid  along  on  her  moccasins,  hanging  on  behind, 
and  had  a  fine  time  till  we  struck  a  snowdrift, 
just  around  the  bend.  The  woman  tempted  me, 
and  I  did  throw  her  into  it.  Lord,  how  she 
squalled!  It  may  have  been  ungallant,  but  it 
was  fun." 

Mackenzie  laughed,  in  spite  of  his  well-meant 
efforts  to  keep  his  face  straight,  and  Forsyth's 
eyes  were  bright  with  new  interest.  Chandon- 
nais  was  asleep  again. 

"  It  was  quite  natural  to  make  inquiries,  was  n't 
it?"  resumed  Ronald.  "I  wouldn't  want  to 


io  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

throw  another  man's  wife  into  a  snowdrift,  es 
pecially  when  the  gentleman  in  question  is  a  six- 
foot  savage  with  a  tomahawk,  and  peculiar  ideas 
about  fair  play." 

"Your  manner  of  speech  is  not  suited  to  the 
Indians,"  said  Mackenzie,  soberly. 

"There you  go  again — always  criticising,  always 
finding  fault.  Criticism  irks  me.  That 's  why 
I  left  the  Fort  this  evening.  Fussy  lot,  over 
there." 

"What  was  the  matter?"  asked  Forsyth. 

"  Nothing  at  all.  Captain  and  his  wife  reading 
last  month's  papers,  and  taking  no  notice  of 
visitors.  Lieutenant  and  his  wife  writing  letters, 
likewise  oblivious  of  visitors.  All  inhospitable — 
nobody  asked  me  to  sit  down.  Barracks  asleep. 
Doc  and  I  played  solitaire,  because  it  's  the  only 
game  he  knows — to  see  who  could  get  through 
first,  and  he  kicked  up  a  devil  of  a  row  because  I 
cheated.  Has  n't  a  man  a  right  to  cheat  when 
he  's  playing  solitaire?  No  law  against  cheating 
yourself,  is  there?" 

"That's  a  mooted  question,"  Forsyth  an 
swered. 

"Maybe  so,  maybe  so.  I  mooted  it  awhile 
with  the  Doc,  and  then  quit.  Coming  over,  I 
managed  to  get  into  the  hole  I  broke  in  the  river 


The  Prophecy  n 

for  this  morning's  bath,  but  it  was  all  slush  and 
ice — no  harm  done." 

His  garments  were  steaming  in  the  generous 
warmth  of  the  fire,  and  perspiration  beaded  his 
forehead.  He  stood  a  little  over  six  feet  in  his 
stockings,  and  his  superb  muscle  was  evident  in 
every  line  of  his  body.  His  thick,  yellow  hair 
was  so  long  that  he  occasionally  shook  it  back, 
like  a  mane.  He  had  the  face  of  a  Viking — blue 
eyes,  straight  nose,  red  and  white  complexion, 
and  a  mouth  and  chin  that  in  some  way  sug 
gested  steel.  One  felt  the  dynamic  force  of  the 
man,  his  power  of  instant  and  permanent  deci 
sion,  and  the  ability  to  put  that  decision  into  im 
mediate  action. 

"Sorry  you  're  not  going  to  be  a  soldier,  Mr. 
Forsyth,"  he  continued.  "I  knew  you  weren't, 
as  soon  as  I  saw  you — you  're  altogether  too 
young.  The  barracks  are  full  of  old  ladies  with 
the  rheumatism.  The  parade  ground  is  bloody 
with  red  flannel  when  the  troops  limp  out,  which 
is  seldom,  by  the  way,  the  Captain  having  a  ten 
der  heart.  Me  and  the  other  officers  are  the  only 
ones  under  the  age  limit,  if  there  is  any  age  limit. 
When  a  man  gets  too  old  to  be  of  use  in  the  army, 
the  President  says :  '  Don't  discharge  the  poor 
cuss — send  him  out  to  Fort  Dearborn,  where  all 


1 2  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

his  old  friends  are.  He  '11  be  well  taken  care  of, 
and  won't  have  anything  to  do.'  When  you  see 
an  old  man  in  a  tattered  uniform,  bent  and  wrin 
kled  and  gummy-eyed,  who  puts  his  hand  up  to  his 
ear  and  says, '  Hey ! '  when  you  speak  to  him,  don't 
step  on  him — he  's  a  soldier,  stationed  at  the  Fort. 

1 '  Had  a  wrestling  match  with  one  of  the  most 
sprightly,  this  very  morning,  and  took  the  skin  off 
the  poor,  tender  old  devil  in  several  places.  Doc 
made  a  surpassingly  fine  seam  at  one  of  the 
places  afterward — Doc  's  pretty  good  with  a 
needle  and  thread.  The  patient  is  in  his  bunk 
now,  being  rubbed  with  hot  things  by  one  of  the 
rheumatics.  I  've  tried  to  get  the  Doc  to  pre 
scribe  a  plunge  in  the  river  every  morning  for  the 
barracks,  and  I  've  urged  the  Captain  to  order  it, 
but  it  's  no  use." 

''Peculiar  treatment  for  rheumatism,"  smiled 
Mackenzie. 

"It  's  the  only  thing  they  have  n't  tried,  and 
I  'm  inclined  to  think  it  would  work  a  change." 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  during  which  Forsyth 
studied  the  young  officer  attentively,  but  Ronald 
was  never  still  very  long. 

"What  are  you  going  to  be,  if  not  a  soldier?" 
he  asked,  curiously.  "You're — you're  not  a 
missionary,  are  you?" 


The  Prophecy  13 

"Do  I  look  like  one?" 

"Can't  say — missionaries  are  deceiving;  but  I 
hope  not.  The  Pottawattomies  tomahawked  the 
last  one  and  fried  the  remains.  They  're  not  yet 
ready  for  the  soothing  influences  of  religion." 

"I  have  come  to  teach  my  young  cousins," 
said  Forsyth,  slowly,  "and  to  help  my  uncle  as  I 
can.  I  graduated  from  college  last  year,  and 
went  to  Detroit  to  teach,  but  I — I  did  n't  do  very 
well."  His  pale  face  reddened  as  he  made  his 
confession.  "  Uncle  John  and  Aunt  Eleanor  have 
kindly  offered  me  a  home  with  them,"  he  went  on. 
"They  're  the  only  relatives  I  have." 

"They  are  relatives  enough,"  remarked  the 
Ensign.  "Mrs.  Mackenzie  is  the  kindest  woman 
and  the  best  cook  that  ever  lived,  is  n't  she, 
Chan?" 

The  sleeper  made  no  reply,  so  Ronald  strode 
over  to  him  and  shook  him  roughly.  "Wake 
up!"  he  bellowed.  "Is  Mrs.  Mackenzie  a  good 
cook,  or  is  n't  she  ?  Answer ! ' ' 

The  half-breed  was  frightened  for  a  moment, 
but  quickly  realised  the  situation.  "What?"  he 
asked. 

The  question  was  repeated,  with  sundry  shakes 
for  emphasis.  "Yes,"  grunted  Chandonnais, 
sheepishly,  "she  good  cook." 


14  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Sit  up  straight,  then,  and  look  your  prettiest. 
You  can't  sleep  all  day  and  all  night,  too."  The 
restless  visitor  made  a  rapid  tour  around  the 
counters,  carefully  examining  the  goods  upon 
the  shelves.  "Nothing  here  I  can  use,"  he  an 
nounced,  returning  to  the  fire. 

"What  was  that  silver  thing  the  Indian  had 
on?"  asked  Forsyth.  "It  looked  like  a  coin  of 
some  kind." 

"That  was  his  precious  medal.  Captain  Wells 
gave  it  to  him,  and  he  prizes  it  more  than  he  does 
the  hair  of  his  lordly  top  piece.  When  Birdie 
dies,  you  '11  find  that  sacred  medal  nailed  to  him, 
and  if  it  does  n't  accompany  him  to  the  happy 
hunting-grounds,  his  ghost  will  haunt  the  miser 
able  mortal  who  has  it.  Don't  mind  a  plain 
ghost  myself,  but  a  ghost  with  a  tomahawk  might 
be  pretty  bad." 

"I  make  silver  things  for  the  Indians,  some 
times,"  Mackenzie  said.  "They  call  me  'Shaw- 
ne-aw-kee,'  meaning  'The  Silver  Man." 

A  face  appeared  at  the  window  for  an  instant, 
and  peered  furtively  within.  It  was  so  silent  and 
so  white,  in  the  midst  of  the  swirling  snow,  that 
it  might  have  been  a  phantom  of  the  storm. 
Then  the  door  opened  slowly,  creaking  ever 
so  little  on  its  hinges,  and  was  softly  closed. 


The  Prophecy  15 

They  felt,  rather  than  heard,  a  presence  in  the 
room. 

Forsyth,  turning,  saw  a  wisp  of  a  woman,  bent 
and  old,  in  a  faded  blue  calico  dress  which  came 
scarcely  to  her  ankles.  Her  shoes  were  much  too 
large  for  her,  and  badly  worn.  A  ragged  shawl, 
of  uncertain  colour  and  pattern,  was  her  only 
protection  from  the  cold. 

It  slipped  off  as  she  came  toward  the  fire,  mov 
ing  noiselessly,  and  Forsyth  saw  that  her  hair 
was  snow  white  and  her  face  finely  traced  with 
wrinkles.  Mackenzie  looked  also. 

"Mad  Margaret,"  he  whispered  to  Forsyth,  in 
a  swift  aside.  "  Don't  say  anything." 

The  half-breed's  eyes  had  a  wolfish  glitter  which 
no  one  saw.  Forsyth  rose,  bowed  politely,  and 
offered  her  his  chair. 

If  she  saw  him,  she  made  no  sign.  Coming 
closer  to  the  fire  she  crouched  on  her  knees  before 
it  and  stretched  her  frail,  delicate  hands  toward 
the  grateful  warmth.  Ronald's  flood  of  high 
spirits  instantly  receded. 

For  a  long  time  they  sat  there  in  silence.  Mac 
kenzie  and  the  Ensign  were  looking  into  the 
fire,  thinking,  perhaps,  of  things  a  thousand  miles 
away,  while  Forsyth  and  Chandonnais  narrowly 
watched  the  woman. 


1 6  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Unmistakable  madness,  of  the  dumb,  pathetic 
kind,  was  written  on  her  face.  Her  unseeing  eyes 
were  faded  blue,  her  cheeks  were  sunken,  and  her 
chin  delicately  pointed.  Solitude  went  with  her 
always.  She  might  have  been  alone,  in  the  pri 
meval  forest,  before  a  fire  some  unknown  hand 
had  kindled,  among  wild  beasts  of  whom  she 
was  not  afraid.  Some  eerie  influence  was  upon 
her,  for,  after  a  little,  she  moved  nervously,  and 
peered  into  the  flames,  muttering  to  herself. 

"Oh,  Lord,"  groaned  Mackenzie,  "she's  goin' 
to  have  one  of  her  spells ! ' ' 

How  often  the  poor,  crazed  creature  had 
sought  him,  when  the  tempests  swept  her  soul, 
only  he  could  tell.  He  leaned  forward  and  took 
hold  of  her  hand.  "Margaret,"  he  said;  "Mar 
garet." 

The  touch  and  the  voice  seemed  to  quiet  her, 
but  she  still  looked  searchingly  into  the  flames. 
Chandonnais  rose,  reached  up  to  the  chimney- 
shelf,  and  took  down  a  violin.  With  the  first 
touch  of  the  bow  upon  the  strings,  she  left  Mac 
kenzie  and  went  to  him,  kneeling  at  his  feet,  with 
her  eyes  fixed  hungrily  upon  his  face. 

Strains  of  wild  music  filled  the  room — music 
which  no  man  had  ever  heard  before.  A  tender, 
half -hushed  whisper,  the  tinkle  of  a  brook,  a  twi- 


The  Prophecy  17 

light  subtleness  of  shadow,  then  a  low,  crooning 
note,  as  if  the  brook  had  gone  to  sleep.  Strange 
sounds  of  swaying  branches  came  from  the  violin, 
with  murmurs  of  a  mighty  wind,  then,  of  a  sudden, 
there  seemed  to  be  dawn.  The  tinkle  of  the 
brook  began  again,  with  a  bird  note  here  and 
there,  at  the  beginning  of  a  great  crescendo  which 
swept  on  and  on,  as  the  music  of  the  river  was 
woven  in.  Question,  prayer,  and  mating  call, 
from  a  thousand  silvery  throats,  rioted  through 
the  tapestry  of  sound,  then  merged  into  a  deep, 
passionate  tone  of  infinite  sweetness,  as  if  the 
river  had  found  the  sea,  or  a  man's  tortured  soul 
had  come  face  to  face  with  its  ultimate  peace. 

"Play,"  said  Mad  Margaret,  brokenly,  "play 
more." 

Once  again  the  bow  swept  the  strings,  bringing 
forth  a  melody  which  breathed  rest.  It  was  quiet 
and  hushed,  like  the  woods  at  twilight,  or  the 
shore  of  a  sea  that  knows  no  storm.  Through  it 
ran  a  haunting  cadence,  with  the  rhythm  of  a 
lullaby,  and  Margaret  rocked  her  frail  body  back 
and  forth,  unconsciously  keeping  time.  When  it 
was  finished,  she  sat  quite  still,  but  on  her  face  was 
the  rapt  look  of  the  seer. 

"  I  see  blood,"  she  said,  very  distinctly.  "  Much 
blood,  then  fire,  and  afterward  peace.'' 


1 8  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

It  was  the  old,  old  prophecy,  which  she  had 
made  a  thousand  times.  "Much  blood,"  she  re 
peated,  shaking  her  head  sadly. 

"Where,  Peggy?"  asked  Ronald,  suddenly. 

"Here,"  she  answered,  making  a  wide  circle 
with  her  arms. 

"What  else  do  you  see?"  he  asked  again,  look 
ing  at  her  intently. 

She  drew  her  hand  wearily  across  her  forehead 
and  closed  her  eyes  for  an  instant,  then  went  to 
him,  and  put  her  hands  on  his  knees. 

"I  see  you,"  she  said,  meaningly. 

"  Where,  Peggy? "  His  voice  was  low  and  very 
gentle,  as  if  he  were  speaking  to  a  child. 

"Here,  with  the  blood.  You  shall  have  many 
sorrows,  but  never  your  heart's  desire." 

"Never  my  heart's  desire?" 

"No.  Many  sorrows,  at  the  time  of  the  blood, 
but  not  that." 

"What  is  my  heart's  desire?" 

"  It  has  not  come,  but  you  will  know  it  soon." 
She  looked  at  him  keenly  for  an  instant,  then 
laughed  mockingly,  and  almost  before  they  knew 
it,  she  had  darted  out  into  the  night  like  the  wild 
thing  that  she  was. 

No  one  spoke  until  after  Chandonnais  had 
put  the  violin  in  its  place  on  the  chimney- 


The  Prophecy  19 

shelf  and  clambered  up  the  ladder  which  led  to 
the  loft. 

"Who  is  she,  Uncle?" 

" Nobody  knows,"  sighed  Mackenzie.  "She 
appeared,  unexpectedly,  the  very  day  we  came 
here.  Sometimes  months  go  by  without  a  glimpse 
of  her,  then,  for  a  time,  she  will  come  every  day." 

"How  does  she  live?" 

Mackenzie  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "We  give 
her  things,"  he  said,  "and  so  do  the  Indians  and 
the  people  at  the  Fort.  Black  Partridge  says  he 
has  seen  her  catch  a  gull  on  the  lake  shore,  strangle 
it,  and  eat  it  raw.  At  the  full  of  the  moon,  when 
her  rages  come  on  her,  she  speaks  very  good 
English.  At  other  times,  she  mutters  something 
no  one  can  understand,  or  else  she  does  not  speak 
at  all.  She  is  harmless,  I  believe.  She  is  only 
one  of  the  strange  things  one  finds  in  a  new 
country." 

"How  did  you  come  to  settle  here,  Uncle?" 

"  I  hardly  know.  It  's  a  good  place  for  trading, 
and  the  Fort  is  near  by.  I  like  the  new  places, 
where  a  few  make  their  own  laws,  and  I  like  the 
prairie.  I  can  breathe  here,  but  the  hills  choke 
me." 

"Never  my  heart's  desire,"  mused  the  Ensign. 
He  was  sitting  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and 


20  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

his  chin  in  his  hands,  gazing  into  the  fire.  He  did 
not  know  that  he  had  spoken  aloud. 

" Do  any  of  us  ever  find  it?"  asked  Forsyth. 

"Not  often,  I  guess,"  answered  Mackenzie. 
"When  we  do,  we  are  disappointed  and  begin  to 
seek  for  something  else." 

From  across  the  river,  muffled  by  the  storm, 
came  the  deep,  sonorous  notes  of  a  bell.  "  Taps," 
said  Ronald.  He  hurried  into  his  overcoat,  with 
out  a  word  of  farewell,  and  bolted. 

Forsyth  followed,  to  close  the  door  after  him, 
and  then  went  to  the  window  to  look  at  the  dark, 
floundering  figure  silhouetted  dimly  against  the 
snow. 

"Breezy  young  man,"  commented  Mackenzie. 

"Yes,"  answered  Forsyth,  after  a  moment's 
silence,  "  I  like  him." 


CHAPTER  II 

NEW   ACQUAINTANCES 

THE  next  morning  was  cold  and  clear.  The 
sun  shone  brilliantly,  revealing  unsuspected 
diamonds  set  in  the  snow.  Forsyth  woke  late, 
wondered  sleepily  where  he  was,  and  then  re 
membered. 

His  room  was  at  the  western  end  of  the  house, 
which  faced  the  south,  and  from  his  window  he 
could  see  the  Fort  and  the  Agency  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river.  A  savoury  suggestion  of  frying 
bacon,  penetrating  the  rough  log  partition,  im 
pelled  him  to  dress  hurriedly.  As  he  broke  the 
ice  in  his  water  pitcher,  he  wondered  whether  the 
Ensign  had  taken  his  regular  plunge,  and  shivered 
at  the  thought. 

When  he  reached  the  large  room  which  served 
as  kitchen,  dining-room,  and  parlour,  he  found 
the  family  already  assembled.  Chandonnais  was 
just  leaving  the  table,  and  Mrs.  Mackenzie  sat  at 

21 


22  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

the  head,  pouring  coffee  from  a  quaint  and  bat 
tered  silver  pot  which  had  been  her  grand 
mother's. 

"Good-morning,"  she  said  cheerily,  "  I  thought 
most  likely  you  were  beat  out  from  travelling, 
and  I  told  John  to  let  you  sleep." 

She  was  a  large,  fair  woman,  matronly  in  every 
line,  and  her  face  was  delicately  pink.  Her  abun 
dant  hair  was  ashen  blonde,  escaping  in  little  curls 
at  her  temples,  and  at  the  second  glance  one  saw 
that  it  was  rapidly  turning  grey.  She  had  a 
wholesome  air  of  cleanliness,  and  her  blue  eyes 
mirrored  the  kindness  in  the  depths  of  her 
motherly  heart. 

Her  brood  was  gathered  around  her,  and  every 
face  had  been  scrubbed  until  it  shone.  The  baby 
sat  at  her  right  and  pounded  the  table  madly 
with  his  pewter  spoon,  to  the  evident  delight  of 
his  father.  Maria  Indiana  was  sipping  warm 
milk  daintily,  like  the  four-year-old  lady  that  she 
was,  and  Ellen  and  Johnny  conducted  themselves 
with  more  dignity  than  is  common  to  people  of 
seven  and  nine. 

Forsyth  had  made  friends  with  the  children 
the  evening  before,  and,  of  his  own  accord,  had 
extended  the  schooling  to  all  but  the  baby. 

"It 's  going  to  be  a  sight  of  comfort  to  me," 


New  Acquaintances  23 

said  Mrs.  Mackenzie,  "to  have  the  young  ones  out 
from  under  foot  half  the  time.  The  baby  don't 
bother  much.  I  tie  him  in  his  chair,  give  him 
something  to  play  with,  and  he  's  all  right." 

"Where  am  I  to  teach,  Aunt  Eleanor?" 

"  In  the  next  room,  I  guess.  There  's  a  fire 
place  in  there,  and  you  can  have  it  all  to  your 
selves.  Just  wait  till  the  breakfast  things  are  out 
of  the  way  and  I  '11  see  to  it." 

At  this  juncture  the  Ensign  appeared,  smiling 
and  debonair.  "Morning!  Am  I  too  late  for 
coffee?" 

"You've  had  some  already  this  morning, 
haven't  you?"  asked  Mackenzie. 

"Well,  now,  that  depends  on  what  coffee  really 
is.  Of  course  they  called  it  that,  but  it  is  n't  to 
be  mentioned  in  the  same  breath  with  Mrs.  Mack 
enzie's."  Robert  noted  that  there  was  an  extra 
cup  on  the  table,  and  surmised  that  the  delicate 
hint  was  not  infrequent. 

"Thank  you,"  continued  the  visitor  in  a  grate 
ful  tone;  "you  've  saved  my  life." 

"  I  wish  I  had  a  dollar  for  every  time  I  've 
saved  your  life,"  laughed  Mrs.  Mackenzie. 

"So  do  I,  for  you  are  a  good  and  beautiful 
woman,  and  you  deserve  a  fortune,  if  anybody 
ever  did." 


24  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Go  away,  you  flatterer.  You  remind  me  of  a 
big,  motherless  chicken." 

"Gaunt  and  chicken-like  I  may  be,  but  never 
motherless  while  you  live.  A  little  bread  and 
butter,  please,  to  go  with  the  coffee." 

"Wouldn't  you  like  some  bacon?"  asked 
Mackenzie,  hospitably. 

"Well,  perhaps  —  a  little.  Mrs.  Mackenzie 
cooks  it  beautifully." 

"Ellen,"  said  her  mother,  "get  another  plate." 

"You're  so  good  to  me,"  murmured  the  En 
sign,  drawing  his  chair  closer  to  his  hostess. 
"Are  those  doughnuts?" 

"They  are." 

"  I  remember  once,  when  you  gave  me  a  dough 
nut,  just  after  drill.  I  can  taste  it  yet." 

" Is  that  so?     I  'd  forgotten  it." 

"  Now  that  I  think  of  it,  you  did  n't,  but  you 
said  you  would,  some  time." 

She  laughed  and  pushed  the  plate  toward  him. 

"Ye  gods!"  he  exclaimed,  sinking  his  white 
teeth  into  a  doughnut,  "what  cooking!  What  a 
woman!" 

"  I  think  I  '11  ask  to  be  excused,"  said  Mackenzie, 
rising  and  pushing  back  his  chair. 

"Certainly,"  responded  the  soldier,  with  a  ges 
ture  of  elaborate  unconcern.  "  Don't  stay  on  my 


New  Acquaintances  25 

account,  I  beg  of  you.  Think  of  real  cream  in 
your  coffee!"  he  sighed,  scraping  the  pitcher  with 
a  spoon.  "I  could  drink  cream." 

"You're  not  going  to,"  put  in  Mrs.  Macken 
zie,  pointedly. 

"  I  know  it,"  he  answered  sadly ;  "  I  only  wish  I 


were." 


When  the  last  scrap  of  food  had  disappeared 
from  the  table,  he  stopped  eating,  but  not  before. 

"  That  makes  a  man  feel  better,"  he  announced, 
"especially  a  suffering  and  dying  invalid  like  me. 
Come  on,  Forsyth,  I  'm  going  to  take  you  over  to 
the  Fort  for  a  bit." 

It  did  not  occur  to  Robert  to  question  the  man 
dates  of  this  lordly  being.  "All  right,  wait  till  I 
get  my  coat  and  hat.  I  '11  be  back  in  a  few 
minutes,  Aunt  Eleanor,  to  open  school." 

"The  devil  you  will,"  observed  Ronald,  as  they 
left  the  house.  "  What  a  liar  you  are !  " 

The  path  which  led  to  the  gate  was  well  trodden, 
early  morning  though  it  was.  "Indian  tracks," 
said  the  Ensign,  pointing  to  a  narrow  line  on  the 
snow ;  "  you  can  always  tell  'em.  They  keep  their 
feet  in  single  file — no  company  front  about  their 
walking." 

An  unpainted  fence  surrounded  the  Mackenzie 
premises,  and  at  the  right  and  left  of  the  gate  were 


26  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

four  tall  Lombardy  poplars,  two  on  each  side. 
Brown  sparrows  chattered  and  fought  in  the  bare 
branches,  scorning  to  fly  away  at  their  approach. 
The  house  had  been  built  on  a  point  of  land  which 
projected  into  the  river  and  turned  it  sharply  from 
its  course.  Between  the  patches  of  snow  the  ice 
glittered  in  the  sun. 

"Salubrious  spot,"  commented  George,  as  they 
struck  the  frozen  surface  of  the  stream.  "  Don't 
get  too  near  that  hole.  It  's  my  bath-tub  and  it 's 
weak  around  the  edges." 

Near  the  middle  of  the  river  was  a  large,  jagged 
space  in  the  ice  and  on  the  snow  around  it  were 
finger-marks  and  footprints. 

"  Rather  looked  for  you  out  this  morning," 
Ronald  continued .  ' '  Was  disappointed . ' ' 

Robert  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  made  no 
reply. 

"That  happy  architectural  combination  which 
we  now  approach,"  his  guide  went  on,  profession 
ally,  "is  Fort  Dearborn.  Intoxicated  party  drew 
the  plans  and  other  intoxicated  parties  followed 
'em.  I  could  improve  it  in  several  places,  but 
I  'm  obliged  to  make  the  best  of  it.  The  flag-pole, 
in  the  middle  of  the  parade-ground,  is  seventy-five 
feet  high,  though  you  would  n't  suspect  it,  on  ac 
count  of  the  heroic  proportions  of  the  other 


New  Acquaintances  27 

buildings,  and  it  interferes  most  beautifully  with 
everything. 

"  Regular  fort,  though.  Officers'  quarters,  bar 
racks,  offices,  guard-house,  magazine,  and  other 
modern  inventions.  Commanding  officer  has  a 
palatial  residence  to  himself.  The  Lieutenant  is 
supposed  to  live  in  half  of  it,  but  he  does  n't. 
Those  warts  at  the  south-east  and  north-west  cor 
ners  are  block-houses,  made  after  a  Chinese  dia 
gram.  The  upper  story  overhangs  to  give  a 
down  range  for  musketry  and  keep  the  enemy 
from  setting  fire  to  the  Fort.  The  double  stockade 
is  where  the  genius  comes  in,  however.  See  how 
it  slants  and  balances  to  corners.  Makes  the 
thing  look  like  a  quilt  pattern.  Would  wear  on 
the  mind  of  a  sensitive  person. 

" Hello,  Charley!  Here's  where  we  get  in. 
You  see  there  's  a  sunken  road  to  the  river  and 
there  's  a  subterranean  passage  also,  with  a  well 
in  it,  which  insures  the  water-supply  in  case  of  a 
siege.  We  Ve  got  three  pieces  of  light  artillery — 
six-pounders — and  our  muskets,  bayonets,  and 
pistols.  That 's  the  Agency  House  outside.  Your 
uncle  is  Government  Indian  Agent  and  sutler 
for  the  garrison  and  trader  on  his  own  account. 
This  is  where  the  Captain  lives." 

He  pounded  merrily  at  the  door,  then  entered 


28  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

unceremoniously,  and  Robert  followed  him,  awk 
wardly,  into  the  room  where  the  Captain  and  his 
wife  sat  at  breakfast. 

Captain  Franklin  was  a  grave,  silent  man  on 
the  sunny  side  of  forty,  who  never  spoke  without 
cause,  and  his  wife  was  a  pretty  little  woman, 
with  dark,  laughing  eyes.  She  brightened  visibly 
when  Robert  was  presented  to  her,  for  guests  did 
not  often  appear  at  the  Fort. 

''Coffee?"  remarked  Ronald,  with  a  rising  in 
flection.  "  You  're  a  lucky  man,  Captain,  to  have 
such  coffee  as  Mrs.  Franklin  makes,  every  blessed 
morning  of  your  life.  I  only  wish  I  were  as 
fortunate,"  he  added  impersonally. 

Robert  bit  his  lips  to  keep  from  smiling  as  the 
Ensign's  wants  were  promptly  supplied.  "  Won't 
you  have  some  too,  Mr.  Forsyth?" 

"  No,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Franklin.  I  Ve  been  to 
breakfast." 

The  emphasis  on  the  personal  pronoun  caused 
George  to  look  at  him  meaningly,  as  he  asked  if 
he  might  have  a  bit  of  toast  and  an  apple.  While 
he  ate,  Mrs.  Franklin  talked  with  Forsyth  and  the 
Captain  listened  in  silence. 

"Are  you  going  to  stay?"  she  inquired. 

"Yes,  I  hope  so.  I  am  going  to  teach  my 
young  cousins  and  help  my  uncle  in  any  way  I 


New  Acquaintances  29 

can.  I  graduated  from  Yale  last  year  and  went 
from  there  to  Detroit,  but  as  soon  as  I  heard  that 
Aunt  Eleanor  was  willing  to  take  me  in,  I  started 
and  got  here  yesterday,  just  before  the  storm." 

"Did  you  have  a  pleasant  journey?" 

"  Yes,  fairly  so.  I  came  by  way  of  Fort  Wayne, 
with  Indian  guides  and  relays  of  horses." 

"Any  news?"  asked  the  Captain. 

"  No,  only  the  usual  symptoms  of  discontent 
among  the  Indians.  The  officers  in  Detroit  think 
there  may  be  another  outbreak  soon." 

"  I  don't — there  's  no  earthly  reason  for  it." 

"  Indians  are  n't  particular  about  reasons,"  put 
in  Ronald.  "Come  along,  Robert,  we're  going 
over  to  the  Lieutenant's." 

When  they  entered,  Mrs.  Howard  was  clearing 
away  the  breakfast  dishes,  and  after  the  intro 
ductions  were  over,  Ronald  did  not  hesitate  to 
express  his  disappointment. 

"Get  that  starving  kid  some  coffee,  Kit,"  said 
the  Lieutenant,  and  Ronald  gladly  accepted  the 
steaming  cup,  with  polite  regret  at  the  trouble  he 
was  causing  and  with  profuse  praise  of  the  bever 
age  itself. 

"Sugar?"  asked  Mrs.  Howard. 

"No,  thank  you — just  put  your  dainty  finger  in 
for  a  moment,  if  you  will  be  so  kind  Your  hand 


30  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

would  sweeten  the  bitterest  cup  man  is  called 
upon  to  drink.  Seems  to  me  I  smell  pancakes." 

He  grinned  appreciatively  at  Forsyth  as  Mrs. 
Howard  went  to  the  iron  griddle  that  swung  in 
the  open  fireplace.  "Not  many,"  he  called  to 
her,  "  six  will  do  very  nicely.  I  don't  want  to  be 
a  pig." 

"You  are,  though,"  Forsyth  assured  him  in  an 
undertone. 

"  Shut  up !  "  he  replied  concisely. 

Acting  upon  the  suggestion,  Robert  turned 
his  attention  to  his  host,  and  they  talked  until 
the  pangs  of  hunger  were  somewhat  satisfied. 
The  Lieutenant  and  his  wife  followed  them  to  the 
door. 

"Tell  my  mother  I  'm  coming  over  to  see  her 
this  afternoon,"  said  Mrs.  Howard. 

"All  right,"  answered  Robert.  "Who  's 
'mother'?"  he  asked,  when  they  got  outside. 

"Mrs.  Mackenzie,  of  course.  Don't  you  know 
your  own  relations  when  you  see  'em?  Mrs. 
Howard  is  your  aunt's  daughter  and  your  uncle's 
step-daughter,  so  she  's  your  cousin." 

"Cousin-in-law,  I  guess,"  said  Robert.  "My 
father  was  Uncle  John's  half-brother,  so  we  're 
not  very  closely  related.  She  's  nice,  though.  I 
wish  she  were  my  cousin." 


New  Acquaintances  31 

"  Coffee  does  n't  come  up  to  her  mother's,"  solil 
oquised  George,  "but  it  's  pretty  good.  Hello, 
Doc!"  he  shouted,  to  a  man  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  parade-ground.  "Had  your  breakfast?" 

"Good  Heavens!"  ejaculated  Forsyth,  "you 
are  n't  going  to  eat  again,  are  you?" 

The  Ensign  turned  upon  him  a  look  of  reproach. 
"My  rations  aren't  meant  for  full-grown  men," 
he  explained.  "If  I  couldn't  get  a  bite  outside 
occasionally,  I  'd  dry  up  and  blow  away.  There  's 
a  squaw  down  in  the  hollow  who  cooks  a  pretty 
good  mess,  and  you  can  get  a  bowl  of  it  for  a  fist 
of  beads.  It  is  n't  overly  clean,  and  it  's  my  pri 
vate  opinion  it 's  yellow  dog,  stewed,  or  perhaps 
I  should  say,  curried,  but  a  starving  man  can't 
afford  to  be  particular." 

"Take  me  some  time,"  Forsyth  suggested  care 
lessly;  "I  've  never  eaten  dog." 

"All  right,"  was  the  jovial  answer,  "we  '11  go. 
Come  on  over  and  meet  the  Doc." 

Robert  was  duly  presented  to  Doctor  Norton, 
whom  the  soldier  characterised  as  "the  pill  roller 
of  the  garrison,"  and  soon  seized  an  opportunity 
to  ask  him  the  exact  capacity  of  the  human 
stomach. 

"  It  varies,"  answered  the  Doctor,  wrinkling  his 
brows  in  deep  thought.  "Some  people" 


32  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

1  'We  must  go,"  George  interrupted.  "It's 
time  for  school." 

They  parted  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  Robert 
studiously  a  voiding  an  opportunity  to  shake  hands. 
When  he  entered  the  house,  his  pupils  were  wait 
ing  for  him. 

The  room  set  aside  for  educational  purposes  was 
just  off  the  living-room  and  a  bright  fire  was 
burning  on  the  hearth.  He  found  it  difficult  to 
teach  three  grades  at  once,  and  soon  arranged 
alternate  study  and  recitation  for  each,  dismissing 
Maria  Indiana  in  an  hour  with  the  first  three 
letters  of  the  alphabet  well  learned. 

The  window,  like  the  others  in  the  house,  com 
manded  a  view  of  the  river  and  the  Fort,  and  gave 
a  glimpse  of  the  boundless  plains  beyond.  Sol 
diers  went  in  and  out  of  the  stockade,  apparently 
at  pleasure,  and  one  or  two  of  them  came  across, 
but  he  looked  in  vain  for  the  stalwart  young 
officer  whom  he  was  proud  to  call  his  friend. 

At  dinner-time  he  inquired  about  the  neigh 
bours. 

"  Neighbours?"  repeated  Mrs.  Mackenzie,  laugh 
ing;  "why,  we  have  n't  any,  except  at  the  Fort." 

' '  Are  you  and  Uncle  John  really  the  only  people 
here?"  he  asked,  seriously. 

"No,  not  that.     There  are  a  few  houses  here. 


New  Acquaintances  33 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Burns  live  in  one — they  are  our  near 
est  neighbours — and  away  up  beyond  is  Lee's 
place.  They  don't  have  anything  to  do  with  us, 
nor  we  with  them.  Two  or  three  men  and  a  boy 
live  there,  I  believe,  but  we  don't  see  much  of 
them.  They  're  part  French  and  part  Indian. 
Chandonnais  used  to  live  with  them,  and  when  we 
came  here,  he  came  to  us.  I  guess  that  's  one 
reason  why  they  don't  like  us,  for  Chan  's  a  good 
boy." 

"And  Margaret?" 

Mrs.  Mackenzie's  face  changed.  "  Poor  old 
thing,"  she  said  sadly,  "no  one  knows  where  or 
how  she  lives.  We  are  not  afraid  of  her,  but  the 
Indians  are.  They  would  n't  touch  a  crazy  person 
under  any  circumstances." 

' '  Is  there  a  regular  Indian  settlement  here  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  there  are  wigwams  all  along  the  river. 
They  are  all  Pottawattomies  and  very  friendly. 
The  Chippewa  and  Winnebago  tribes  are  farther 
north.  John  has  a  gift  for  dealing  with  the  In 
dians.  He  has  learned  their  language  and  their 
ways,  and  they  treat  him  as  if  he  were  one  of  them. 
Did  George  show  you  the  Fort  this  morning?" 

"Most  of  it,"  smiled  Forsyth.  "We  called  on 
the  commissioned  officers  and  that  young  giant 
ate  a  hearty  breakfast  at  each  place." 

3 


34  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"He  is  the  life  of  the  settlement,  and  I  don't 
know  what  we  'd  do  without  him.  I  never  saw 
anybody  with  such  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  good 
spirits.  Nothing  is  so  bad  that  George  can't  get 
a  joke  out  of  it  and  make  us  laugh  in  spite  of  our 
trouble.  Did  you  see  Doctor  Norton?" 

"Yes,  but  only  for  a  moment." 

"He  's  jolly  too,  and  very  good  to  all  of  us." 

"I  forgot  to  tell  you  when  I  first  came  in," 
said  Robert,  "but  I  met  Mrs.  Howard  and  she 
asked  me  to  tell  you  that  she  was  coming  over  to 
see  you  this  afternoon." 

"Bless  her  heart,"  said  Mrs.  Mackenzie,  ten 
derly,  "she  never  forgets  her  old  mother." 

"You  '11  never  be  old,  Aunt  Eleanor.  I  be 
lieve  you  have  found  the  fountain  of  eternal 
youth." 

"What,  another  flatterer?"  she  asked,  but  the 
heightened  colour  in  her  cheeks  showed  that  she 
was  pleased. 

During  the  afternoon,  while  Johnny  struggled 
manfully  with  digits  and  addition,  Robert  saw 
Mrs.  Howard  coming  across  the  river.  She  was  a 
fair,  tall  woman,  very  blonde,  with  eyes  like  her 
mother's.  The  Doctor  stood  at  the  entrance  of 
the  stockade,  watching  her,  with  something  akin 
to  wist  fulness  in  his  attitude. 


New  Acquaintances  35 

"Poor  soul,"  thought  Robert,  "I  expect  he's 
lonesome." 

The  afternoon  sun  stole  into  the  room,  mark 
ing  out  patches  of  light  upon  the  rag  carpet 
which  covered  the  floor,  and  touched  the  rude 
logs  kindly  as  if  to  gild,  rather  than  to  reveal. 
In  the  next  room  women's  voices  sounded,  in 
distinct,  but  pleasant,  with  here  and  there  a 
low,  musical  laugh,  and  the  teacher  fell  to  dream 
ing. 

"How  many  are  two  and  two,  Cousin  Rob?" 
Johnny  asked,  for  the  third  time. 

"Four — don't  you  remember?  You  learned 
that  this  morning." 

"Can  I  go  now?     I  want  to  see  my  sister." 

"Yes,  run  along." 

The  patter  of  feet  died  away  in  the  distance, 
but  Robert  still  looked  out  upon  the  river  with 
a  smile  upon  his  face.  Presently  he  saw  Mrs. 
Howard  going  toward  the  Fort,  with  two  of  the 
children  capering  along  beside  her.  Something 
stirred  in  the  dreamer's  pulses,  indefinite,  but 
none  the  less  real.  What  man  can  place  it,  or 
knows  it  when  it  comes — that  first  vague  longing 
for  a  home  of  his  own? 

The  minutes  went  by  and  the  light  faded  until 
the  blood-red  sunset  fired  the  Fort  and  stained 


36  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

the  snowy  reaches  beyond.  A  door  opened,  a 
kettle  sang,  and  some  one  came  in. 

"Asleep,  dear?" 

"No,  Aunt  Eleanor."  He  went  to  her,  put  his 
arm  around  her,  and  touched  her  cheek  lightly 
with  his  lips.  "I  was  only  thinking  that  my 
lines  have  fallen  in  pleasant  places." 


CHAPTER  III 


K 


THE    SECOND    IN    COMMAND 

IT,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  pacing  back 
and  forth  moodily,  "I  wish  I  were  in 
command." 

"  I  wish  so,  too,  dear,"  responded  Mrs.  Howard, 
dutifully. 

"Anybody  with  half  an  eye  can  see  what  is 
going  to  happen  here,  if  there  is  n't  a  change." 

"  What  change  do  you  mean,  Ralph?" 

"Any  kind  of  a  change,"  he  snapped  angrily. 
"We  Ve  got  a  figure-head  for  a  Captain  and  the 
men  have  n't  the  faintest  idea  of  military  train 
ing.  There  's  no  reason  for  postponing  drill  on 
account  of  bad  weather — the  men  have  n't  been 
out  for  over  a  week  now,  just  because  it  's  cold. 
The  Captain  sits  by  his  fire,  studying  tactics  and 
making  out  imaginary  reports,  while  his  men  are 
suffering  for  discipline — and  clothes,"  he  added 
as  an  afterthought. 

37 


38  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

' '  What  can  Captain  Franklin  do  about  their 
clothes?'' 

' '  What  can  he  do  ?  Nothing,  it  seems ;  but  I 
could.  I  'd  send  a  man  to  President  Madison 
himself,  if  there  was  no  other  way.  Look  at 
us!  We  look  like  Washington's  army  at  Valley 
Forge!" 

The  Lieutenant  brushed  away  an  imaginary 
speck  on  a  very  shabby  uniform.  "I  'm  sorry  I 
entered  the  army,"  he  went  on.  "Look  at  this 
post,  on  the  edge  of  nowhere,  with  about  forty 
men  to  defend  it.  I  doubt  if  we  have  more  than 
thirty  in  good  fighting  trim — the  rest  are  worse 
than  useless.  All  around  us  are  hordes  of  hostile 
savages,  ready  to  attack  any  or  all  of  us  on  the  • 
slightest  provocation,  and  we  cannot  make  even  a 
display  of  force!  No  target  practice,  for  fear  of 
wasting  ammunition;  no  drill,  because  the  Cap 
tain  is  lazy;  clothes  like  beggars — idleness,  in 
action,  sloth!  Three  six-pounders  and  thirty 
men,  against  thousands  of  bloodthirsty  beasts! 
Things  were  different  at  Fort  Wayne!" 

"Ralph,"  said  Mrs.  Howard,  quickly,  "please 
don't  say  that  to  me  again.  I  have  told  you 
twenty  times  how  sorry  I  am  that  I  asked  you  to 
arrange  to  be  transferred.  I  tell  you  once  more 
that  we  will  go  wherever  and  whenever  you  please, 


The  Second  in  Command          39 

to  Fort  Wayne,  Detroit,  or  even  Fort  Mackinac. 
If  there  is  an  army  post  in  the  United  States 
where  things  are  run  to  suit  you,  please  get  a 
transfer  to  it.  You  will  hear  no  complaints  from 
me.  I  wanted  to  be  near  my  mother — that  was 
all." 

"  Was  that  all?"  he  sneered.  "  I  have  thought 
otherwise.  You  talk  like  a  fool,  Kit.  You  seem 
to  think  it  's  the  simplest  thing  in  the  world  to 
get  a  transfer.  Do  you  expect  to  see  a  messenger 
ride  in  at  the  gate,  with  an  order  from  the  War 
Department,  or  shall  I  go  over  and  tell  the  Cap 
tain  that  we  leave  for  Fort  Wayne  this  evening  ? ' ' 

Mrs.  Howard  moved  her  lips  as  if  to  speak, 
then  thought  better  of  it  and  remained  silent. 
He  stood  at  the  window  for  a  long  time,  with  his 
back  to  her. 

"You  don't  seem  very  sociable,"  he  said  at 
length,  "  so  I  guess  I  '11  go  out  for  a  bit,  especially 
as  I  see  your  friend  coming.  I  never  like  to  in 
trude."  With  this  parting  fling,  he  left  the  house, 
carefully  avoiding  Doctor  Norton,  who  was  cross 
ing  the  parade-ground. 

From  where  she  sat,  Mrs.  Howard  could  see  her 
husband,  erect  and  soldierly,  making  his  way  to 
the  offices.  During  the  first  two  years  of  their 
married  life,  she  had  been  very  happy,  but  since 


40  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

they  came  to  live  at  Fort  Dearborn,  he  had  been 
subject  to  occasional  outbursts  of  temper  which 
distressed  her  greatly. 

Her  face,  always  expressive,  was  white  and 
troubled  when  she  opened  the  door  for  the  Doctor. 
He  understood — he  always  did.  He  was  one  of 
the  few  men  who  are  not  dense  in  their  compre 
hension  of  womankind. 

They  talked  commonplaces  for  a  little  while, 
then  he  leaned  forward  and  took  her  cold  hand  in 
his. 

"Something  has  bothered  you,"  he  said  kindly. 
"  Tell  me  and  let  me  help  you." 

"You  could  n't  help  me,"  she  answered  sadly; 
"nobody  can." 

Doctor  Norton  was  not  more  than  thirty-five, 
but  his  hair  was  prematurely  grey,  and  this,  to 
gether  with  his  kindly  manner,  often  impelled 
his  patients  to  make  unprofessional  confidences. 
Like  many  another  woman,  too,  Mrs.  Howard 
was  strong  in  the  face  of  opposition,  but  weak  at 
the  touch  of  sympathy. 

"It's  nothing,"  she  said.  "Ralph  is  cross 
nearly  all  the  time,  though  I  don't  believe  he 
means  to  be.  He  has  been  that  way  ever  since 
— ever  since  the  baby  died." 

She  turned  her  face  away,  for  the  little  grave  in 


The  Second  in  Command          41 

the  hollow  pulled  piteously  at  the  mother's  heart 
strings  when  the  world  went  wrong. 

"  He  has  always  blamed  me  for  that,"  she  went 
on.  "One  of  the  reasons  why  I  wanted  to  live 
here,  instead  of  at  Fort  Wayne,  was  that  I  might 
have  my  mother  to  help  me  take  care  of  the  baby. 
She  knew  more  than  I  did;  was  wiser  and  more 
experienced  in  every  way,  and  I  thought  the  little 
lad  would  have  a  better  chance.  Instead,  as  you 
know,  he  took  cold  on  the  way  here  and  did  not 
get  well,  so  his  father  has  never  forgiven  me." 

The  tears  came  fast  and  her  white  lips  quivered. 
"Don't,  Katherine,"  he  said.  It  was  the  first 
time  he  had  called  her  by  name,  and  she  noted  it, 
vaguely,  in  the  midst  of  her  suffering. 

"  Don't,  Katherine,"  he  repeated.  "  All  we  can 
do  in  this  world  is  the  thing  that  seems  to  us  the 
best.  We  have  no  concern  with  the  results,  ex 
cept  as  a  guide  for  the  future,  and  sometimes, 
years  afterward,  we  see  that  what  seemed  like  a 
bitter  loss  in  reality  was  gain.  Some  day  you 
may  be  glad  that  you  lost  your  boy." 

"Glad?  Glad  I  have  lost  my  only  child? 
Doctor,  what  are  you  thinking  of!" 

"  Of  you.  Whatever  troubles  you  troubles  me, 
also.  You  know  that,  don't  you?" 

For  an  instant  she  was  frightened,  but  his  calm 


42  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

friendliness  reassured  her.  "Thank  you,"  she 
returned,  "you  have  always  been  good  to  me." 

"  I  shall  always  try  to  be.  Nothing  that  comes 
to  you  is  without  meaning  for  me,  and  you  will 
always  have  at  least  one  friend."  There  was  an 
eloquent  silence,  then  the  tension  of  the  moment 
snapped,  and  he  released  her  hand. 

"I'm  sily,"  she  laughed  hysterically,  wiping 
her  eyes.  ' '  Have  you  any  medicine  for  silliness  ? ' ' 

"  If  I  had,  I  should  keep  it  for  those  who  need 
it  worse  than  you  do.  I  wish  you  would  go  out 
doors  more.  Walk  on  the  parade-ground  and 
across  to  your  mother's, — those  two  places  are 
certainly  safe, — and  when  you  get  tired  of  that, 
go  over  to  Mrs.  Franklin's.  She  's  a  nice  little 
woman  and  she  needs  cheering  up,  too.  I  have 
a  suspicion,  Mrs.  Howard,  that  the  temperament 
which  urges  a  man  to  be  a  soldier  is  very  seldom 
elastic  enough  to  include  the  domestic  hearth." 

Katherine's  face  brightened,  for  she  had  not 
thought  of  that,  and  the  suggestion  that  others 
had  the  same  trouble  was  not  without  its  dubious 
consolation. 

For  an  hour  or  more  he  talked  to  her,  telling 
her  bits  of  news  from  the  barracks  which  he 
thought  would  interest  her,  and  offering  frag 
ments  of  philosophy  as  the  occasion  permitted. 


The  Second  in  Command  43 

"You  're  a  tonic,"  she  said  lightly,  as  he  rose 
to  go;  "the  blues  are  all  gone." 

"  I  'm  glad  of  that.  Now  remember,  when  any 
thing  goes  wrong,  tell  me.  Perhaps  I  can  help 
you — at  least  I  can  try." 

Half-way  across  the  parade-ground  he  turned 
back  to  smile  at  her  as  she  stood  at  the  window, 
and  she  waved  a  friendly  hand  in  response.  It 
was  at  this  unlucky  moment  that  the  Lieutenant 
left  the  offices,  having  had  high  words  with  the 
Captain  about  the  condition  of  the  garrison  and 
the  possibility  of  a  war  with  England. 

She  was  vaguely  uneasy  when  he  went  out  of 
his  way  to  meet  the  Doctor,  but,  though  he  spoke 
to  him,  he  paused  for  scarcely  an  instant  in  his 
rapid  stride.  He  was  pleasant  enough  when  he 
came  into  the  house,  and  she  thought  that  all  was 
well. 

He  made  no  reference  to  their  earlier  conversa 
tion,  but  talked  easily  and  indifferently,  with  a 
mild  desire  to  please,  as  is  the  way  of  a  man  who 
is  ashamed  of  h'mself. 

"  Would  n't  you  like  to  go  across  the  river? "  he 
asked. 

"Why,  yes,"  she  replied  wonderingly,  "I  don't 
mind." 

"Come  on,  then." 


44  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

His  dark,  handsome  face  was  still  pale,  and  the 
lines  of  weakness  were  distinct  around  his  mouth, 
but  Katherine's  heart,  leaping  to  meet  its  desire, 
turned  newly  toward  him,  as  a  flower  lifts  its  face 
to  the  sun. 

"Poor  boy,"  she  said  affectionately,  putting 
her  hand  on  his  arm,  "you  have  lots  of  things  to 
bother  you,  don't  you?" 

"That  I  do,  Kit.  I  suppose  you  think  I  'm  a 
brute  sometimes." 

"No,  indeed,"  she  answered,  generously. 

'  'You  Ve  been  hard  to  get  on  with  lately,"  he 
observed. 

"Have  I,  dear?"  She  was  surprised  and  con 
science-stricken;  the  more  so  because  the  possi 
bility  had  not  occurred  to  her.  "  I  'm  sorry,"  she 
said  after  a  little.  "  I  '11  try  to  do  better." 

"  I  don't  think  it  's  altogether  your  fault,"  he  re 
joined.  "I  Ve  noticed  that  you  get  cranky  after 
Norton  has  been  to  the  house,  and  I  think  he  has 
a  bad  influence  over  you."  The  Lieutenant  tried 
to  speak  jauntily,  and  failed. 

"So,  naturally,"  he  continued,  clearing  his 
throat,  "I  Ve  done  as  any  other  man  in  my  posi 
tion  would  do.  I  Ve  told  him  not  to  come  unless 
he  's  asked  in  his  professional  capacity,  and  to 
make  those  visits  when  I  'm  at  home." 


The  Second  in  Command          45 

"Ralph!"  It  was  the  cry  of  a  hurt  child,  and 
every  vestige  of  colour  fled  from  Katherine's  face. 
She  pressed  her  hands  to  her  breast  and  leaned 
against  the  stockade  at  the  entrance  to  the  Fort. 

"Well?"  he  asked  ironically,  "have  I  broken 
your  heart  ? ' ' 

"  To  think,"  she  said  slowly,  "that  you  could  be 
so  discourteous  to  any  one,  and  especially  to  a 
friend  who  has  been  so  kind  to  us  as  Doctor 
Norton.  I  'm  ashamed  of  you." 

"Your  actions,  Katherine,  only  prove  that  I 
have  taken  the  right  course.  If  I  had  any  doubt 
before,  I  am  certain  now  You  will  oblige  me  by 
avoiding  him  as  much  as  possible." 

He  never  called  her  "Katherine"  unless  he 
was  very  much  displeased  with  her,  and  they 
crossed  the  river  without  speaking.  Howard 
hummed  a  popular  air  to  himself,  with  apparent 
unconcern. 

At  Mackenzies',  all  was  bustle  and  confusion. 
Indians  hurried  in  and  out  of  the  house,  talking 
and  gesticulating  excitedly.  The  snow  on  the 
path  was  worn  as  smooth  as  ice  and  Chandonnais 
was  running  to  the  Agency  building  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Katherine. 


46  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Dunno,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  laconically. 

When  they  entered,  John  Mackenzie  was,  as  he 
expressed  it,  "  pretty  nigh  beat  out . ' '  Robert  had 
dismissed  school,  and  was  helping  him  as  best  he 
could,  though  he  was  heavily  handicapped  at  the 
start  by  his  ignorance  of  values  and  of  the  Indian 
tongue. 

The  space  behind  the  counters  was  heaped  high 
with  furs.  Deer  hide  and  moose  leather,  grey 
wolf,  red  and  silver  fox,  muskrat,  beaver  and  bear 
skins  were  stacked  waist  deep  around  Forsyth 
and  Mackenzie.  Unwonted  activity  was  in  the 
air,  and  the  place  was  full  of  odorous  Indians. 

Black  Partridge  came  in,  bringing  the  skin  of  a 
gigantic  black  bear,  and  a  murmur  ran  through  the 
room.  Members  of  other  tribes  fingered  it  en 
viously,  and  the  Pottawattomie  squaws  openly 
boasted  the  prowess  of  their  chief. 

Chandonnais  came  in  from  the  Agency,  with  a 
huge  ham  under  either  arm.  He  went  back,  laden 
with  peltries,  and  when  he  returned,  he  was  rolling 
a  fresh  barrel  of  flour  before  him.  His  face  was  set 
in  an  expression  of  extreme  displeasure,  for  he 
was  constitutionally  opposed  to  work. 

"Can  I  help?"  asked  Lieutenant  Howard. 

"Wish  you  'd  go  over  to  the  Agency,  Ralph," 
replied  Mackenzie,  "and  bring  over  as  many 


The  Second  in  Command          47 

blankets  as  you  can  carry  Chan  will  go  with 
you — he  's  got  to  bring  more  bacon." 

Mrs.  Howard  had  long  since  retreated  to  the 
living-room.  The  door  was  closed,  but  the  tumult 
of  the  trading  station  resounded  afar. 

"  Be  careful,  Rob,"  said  Mackenzie,  "  that's  a 
sheep  skin  dyed  with  walnut  juice.  He  tried  it 
on  you  'cause  you  're  green."  Turning  to  the 
Indian,  the  trader  spoke  volubly,  even  after  the 
would-be  cheat  had  grabbed  his  sheep  skin  and 
started  for  the  door. 

"This  jawbreaker  talk  is  tellin'  on  me,"  Mac 
kenzie  resumed.  "This  is  the  first  time  they  've 
ever  come  on  me  all  at  once  this  way.  Mighty 
sudden,  I  take  it.  It  's  early,  too.  Usually  they 
do  their  tradin'  on  the  Q.T.,  one  and  two  at  a 
time,  weeks  before.  They  say  this  is  the  last  day 
of  Winter  and  that  to-morrow  will  be  Spring." 

Chandonnais  and  the  Lieutenant  returned, 
laden  with  bacon  and  blankets.  The  half-breed 
wiped  the  sweat  from  his  swarthy  face  with  a 
very  dirty  sleeve,  and  Howard  made  no  further 
offers  of  assistance.  Instead,  he  went  over  to 
Forsyth,  and  began  to  talk  with  him. 

"What's  going  on?"  asked  Robert,  "do  you 
know?" 

Ralph  shrugged  his  shoulders.     "  They  have  n't 


48  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

taken  me  into  their  confidence,"  he  replied,  "but 
I  suppose  it  's  the  annual  pilgrimage." 

"Where?     What  for?" 

"Didn't  Father  John  tell  you?  Every  year 
they  go  up  into  Canada  to  get  their  presents  from 
the  British.  Damn  the  British!"  he  added,  with 
unnecessary  emphasis. 

"Oh,"  said  Robert,  thoughtfully.  "In  case  of 
trouble,  then,  the  Indians  are  on  their  side." 

"  Exactly.     Quite  a  scheme,  is  n't  it?" 

" It 's  a  devilish  scheme!" 

"  Be  careful,"  warned  Mackenzie,  "some  of  'em 
understand  more  English  than  they  let  on." 

The  trading  fever  rapidly  spread  to  the  squaws. 
Those  who  were  not  bringing  furs  for  exchange 
and  carrying  provisions  back  to  the  camp  offered 
moccasins  and  baskets  for  sale.  Mackenzie  shook 
his  head — he  had  no  use  for  anything  but  the 
skins. 

Under  cover  of  the  excitement,  much  petty 
thieving  was  going  on,  and  it  was  necessary  to 
keep  close  watch  of  the  peltries,  lest  they  be  ex 
changed  again.  The  squaws  kept  keen  eyes  on 
the  counters,  making  off  with  anything  desirable 
which  was  left  unguarded.  Chandonnais  took  a 
place  at  the  door,  finally,  to  call  a  halt  upon 
illegal  enterprises. 


The  Second  in  Command          49 

Without  the  least  knowledge  of  why  he  did  it, 
Robert  bought  a  pair  of  moccasins.  They  were 
small,  even  for  a  woman's  foot,  and  heavy  with 
beads.  The  dainty  things  appealed  to  him,  sud 
denly  and  irresistibly,  and  the  price  he  paid 
for  them  brought  other  squaws,  with  countless 
moccasins. 

"Uncle  John,"  he  shouted  above  the  clamour, 
"please  tell  them  I  don't  want  any  more  mocca 
sins!" 

A  few  rapid  words  from  Shaw-ne-aw-kee  had 
the  desired  effect.  "  Don't  see  what  you  want  of 
those  things,"  he  observed;  "they  won't  fit  any 
body." 

"  Pretty  things, "  remarked  Howard,  sauntering 
up .  "  Whom  are  they  f or  ? " 

"I — I —  that  is,  I  don't  know,"  stammered 
Robert.  "  I  just  wanted  them." 

The  Lieutenant  laughed.  "Oh,  I  see,"  he  said. 
"Another  case  of  Cinderella's  slipper?" 

"  Yes,  we  '11  let  it  go  at  that,"  returned  Forsyth. 
He  had  regained  his  self-possession,  but  the  colour 
still  bronzed  his  cheeks. 

When  every  possible  exchange  had  been  made, 
and  every  Indian  had  been  given  a  small  addi 
tional  present,  the  room  became  quiet  again. 
Black  Partridge  received  a  small  silver  ornament 


50  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

which  Mackenzie  had  made  for  him  during  the 
long  winter  evenings,  with  manifestations  of  de 
light  and  gratitude. 

"What 's  he  saying,  Uncle?"  asked  Robert. 

"  He  's  swearing  eternal  friendship  for  me  and 
mine." 

"Much  good  that  does,"  said  Howard,  non 
chalantly.  "I'd  trust  a  dead  Indian  a  damn 
sight  sooner  'n  a  live  one." 

Black  Partridge  may  have  caught  the  gist  of 
what  had  been  said,  but  he  repeated  his  expres 
sions  of  gratitude  and  his  assurances  of  continued 
esteem.  The  room,  by  contrast,  was  very  silent 
after  he  went  out. 

1 '  Lord ! ' '  sighed  the  trader.     ' '  What  a  day ! ' ' 

Mrs.  Mackenzie's  voice  sounded  clearly  in  the 
next  room.  "  Yes,  dear,"  she  said,  "I  '11  tell  him, 
and  I  '11  explain  it  all.  Don't  you  fret  one  mite 
about  it."  Then  the  door  opened  and  Mrs. 
Howard  came  in. 

She  talked  with  Forsyth  for  a  few  minutes, 
then  turned  to  her  husband.  "Shall  we  go 
home?"  she  asked,  "or  do  you  want  to  stay  here 
for  supper?" 

"  Better  stay,"  suggested  Mackenzie,  hospitably. 

"  No,  we  '11  go,"  said  Ralph.  "  Good-bye,  every 
body." 


The  Second  in  Command          51 

Neither  spoke  until  they  entered  their  own 
house  again,  then  Katherine  put  her  hands  on 
his  shoulders  and  looked  straight  into  his  eyes. 
' 'Ralph,"  she  said,  seriously,  "can't  you  trust 
me?" 

"I  hope  so,"  he  returned,  drawing  away  from 
her,  "and  as  I  've  fixed  it  now,  I  think  I  can." 

' '  Ralph ! "  she  cried,  ' '  you  hurt  me ! " 

"Look  here,"  he  exclaimed  roughly,  "I  don't 
want  any  more  of  this.  I  have  trouble  enough 
without  your  pitching  into  me  all  the  time.  This 
is  my  house  and  you  are  my  wife — please  remem 
ber  that." 

"There  's  no  danger  of  my  forgetting  it,"  she 
answered  hotly. 

"Come,  Kit,  do  be  reasonable.  I  don't  want 
to  quarrel." 

She  smiled  cynically  and  bit  her  lips  to  keep 
back  the  retort  that  struggled  for  utterance. 
"Whatever  you  do,"  her  mother  had  said  to  her, 
"don't  quarrel  with  your  husband.  It  takes  two 
to  make  a  quarrel." 

Later,  a  semblance  of  peace  was  restored,  but 
long  after  the  Lieutenant  was  asleep,  Katherine 
lay,  wide-eyed  and  troubled,  with  bitterness  surg 
ing  in  her  heart. 

From  the  window  of  her  room  she  saw  the  late 


52  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

moon  when  it  rose  from  the  lake,  and  soon  after 
ward  the  clock  struck  three.  Then  a  ghostly 
pageant  passed  the  Fort.  Black  Partridge  was 
ahead — she  knew  his  stately  figure  in  spite  of  the 
blanket  in  which  he  was  enshrouded.  Behind  him 
came  more  Indians  than  she  had  ever  seen  at  one 
time,  silently,  in  single  file. 

The  squaws  brought  up  the  rear,  laden  with 
baggage.  The  last  one  was  heavily  burdened  and 
was  far  behind.  As  she  straggled  along,  the  pale 
moonlight  revealed  something  strange  upon  her 
head  and  Katherine  recognised  her  own  discarded 
summer  hat  of  two  seasons  past.  The  implied 
comparison  made  her  laugh  in  a  way  which  was 
not  good  to  hear — but  no  one  heard. 

Across  the  river  another  watcher  was  taking 
note  of  the  departure  of  the  Pottawattomies,  for 
Robert  had  found  it  impossible  to  sleep.  Physic 
ally,  he  was  too  tired  to  rest,  and  his  mind  was 
unusually  active.  The  dainty  moccasins  hung  on 
the  wall  of  his  room  and  something  obtrusively 
feminine  in  their  presence  was,  in  a  way,  disturb 
ing,  but  not  altogether  unpleasant. 

The  young  man  was  somewhat  given  to  analysis 
and  introspection,  and  had  endeavoured,  unsuc 
cessfully,  to  solve  the  freakish  impulse  which  led 
him  to  buy  moccasins  too  small  for  any  woman 


The  Second  in  Command          53 

he  knew.  Further  questioning  of  self  brought  out 
the  astounding  fact  that  he  would  not  give  moc 
casins  to  any  woman  he  had  ever  met,  even  though 
these  might  fit  her. 

The  Indians  passing  the  Fort  were  a  welcome 
diversion,  and  he,  too,  laughed  at  the  one  who 
followed  the  procession  with  more  than  her  share 
of  baggage,  but  he  missed  the  fine  point  in  the 
matter  of  millinery.  "She  looks  like  the  one  I 
bought  them  of,"  he  said  to  himself,  "but  I  won't 
be  sure." 

The  moon  faded  and  grey  dawn  came  up  out  of 
the  inland  sea.  A  ribbon  of  light  lay  across  the 
Fort  and  the  pulses  of  the  river  stirred  beneath 
the  ice.  The  blood  came  to  his  heart  like  the  sap 
mounting  in  the  maples,  and  he  felt  a  sudden  up 
lift  of  soul.  A  bluebird  paused  over  the  river  for 
an  instant,  the  crimson  of  its  breast  strangely 
luminous  against  the  sky,  then  from  a  distant 
thicket  came  the  first  robin's  cheery  call,  and  he 
knew  the  Indians  were  right — that  it  was  Spring. 


CHAPTER  IV 
RONALD'S  VIEWS  OF  MARRIAGE 

MRS.  HOWARD  was  trying  to  sew,  but  seemed 
to  lack  the  necessary  energy.  The  Lieu 
tenant  paced  the  room  in  his  favourite  attitude — 
hands  crossed  behind  his  back — and  gave  her  his 
views  upon  various  topics,  from  the  mistakes  of  the 
War  Department  at  Washington  to  the  criminal 
mismanagement  of  Captain  Franklin.  He  became 
so  interested  in  this  last  subject  that  he  spoke  as  if 
addressing  a  large  audience,  happily  unmindful  of 
the  fact  that  his  single  listener  was  preoccupied. 

"Upon  my  word,  Kit,"  he  was  saying,  "there 
is  n't  a  man  in  barracks  who  would  n't  make  a 
better  Captain  than  the  one  we  've  got." 

"  His  wife  is  coming,"  remarked  Katherine,  im 
personally. 

"  I  don't  care  if  she  is.  Somebody  ought  to  tell 
him  where  he  stands  in  the  estimation  of  the 
officers  and  men." 

54 


Ronald's  Views  of  Marriage         55 

His  disapproval  of  his  superior  officer  was  re 
flected  in  his  cool  response  to  Mrs.  Franklin's 
cheery  greeting  when  she  came  in  with  her  sewing. 
"  I  Ve  got  something  for  you,"  she  said  to  Kather- 
ine ;  "  guess  what  it  is ! " 

"  I  could  n't  guess — what  is  it?" 

"A  letter,"  she  answered  brightly,  "from 
Doctor  Norton!  You  aren't  jealous,  are  you?" 
she  asked  playfully,  turning  to  the  Lieutenant. 

He  made  no  reply,  but  gnawed  his  mustache 
nervously.  Katherine's  face  blanched  as  she  took 
the  note  and  tore  it  open  with  trembling  hands. 

There  was  neither  date,  address,  nor  signature. 
"I  understand,"  it  began,  "and  everything  is  all 
right.  I  beg  of  you,  do  not  distress  yourself  about 
me,  and,  if  I  can  ever  serve  you  in  any  way,  com 
mand  me." 

The  words  danced  before  her  eyes  as  the  Lieu 
tenant  approached  and  held  out  his  hand,  silently, 
for  the  letter. 

"  It 's  nothing  that  would  interest  you,  dear," 
she  said,  tearing  it  straight  across. 

"Pardon  me,  I  think  it  would."  He  quickly 
possessed  himself  of  the  note  and  fitted  the  two 
parts  of  the  page  together,  laughing  as  he  did  so. 
Only  Katherine  noticed  that  his  voice  shook. 

"If  you  're  through  with  it,  I  '11  burn  it,"  he 


56  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

said  quietly,  after  what  seemed  an  age.  Without 
waiting  for  an  answer,  he  threw  it  into  the  open 
fire  and  hurriedly  left  the  house.  Then  some 
thing  dawned  on  Mrs.  Franklin. 

"Kit,"  she  cried,  "can  you  ever  forgive  me?" 

"What  did  you  think?"  retorted  Katherine, 
fiercely.  "  Would  he  have  sent  a  note  to  me  if  he 
had  meant  it  for  my  husband?  Why  didn't  he 
come  over  instead  of  writing?" 

"I  don't  know,"  murmured  Mrs.  Franklin. 
For  the  moment  she  was  afraid,  and  as  the  in 
evitable  surmise  forced  itself  into  her  conscious 
ness,  she  gazed  at  Katherine,  horror-stricken  and 
dumb. 

"I  know  what  you're  thinking,"  said  Mrs. 
Howard,  with  forced  calmness.  "  It 's  very  charit 
able  of  you,  but  I  'm  glad  to  be  able  to  tell  you 
that  you  're  mistaken." 

"You  poor  child!"  exclaimed  the  Captain's 
wife.  She  slipped  a  friendly  hand  into  Kather 
ine 's  cold  one  and  was  not  surprised  when  the 
overwrought  nerves  sought  relief  in  tears. 

Little  by  little,  Katherine  made  a  full  explana 
tion.  "It  's  too  small  and  too  silly  to  talk  about, ' ' 
she  sighed,  "  but  I  have  n't  been  well  lately  and 
the  slightest  thing  will  worry  me  almost  past  en 
durance.  I  don't  know  what  's  the  matter  with 


Ronald's  Views  of  Marriage         57 

Ralph — he  is  not  at  all  like  himself,  and  that 
troubles  me,  too." 

"Funny,"  observed  Mrs.  Franklin,  irrelevantly. 

"What's  funny?" 

"Men  in  general  and  husbands  in  particular. 
Wallace  is  n't  inclined  to  be  jealous,  so  I  've 
never  had  that  to  bother  me,  but  he  's  as  stubborn 
as  a  mule,  and  I  guess  that  's  just  as  bad.  Any 
how,  I  'd  like  to  trade  his  stubbornness  for  some 
thing  else.  I  'd  appreciate  the  change  for  a  little 
while,  no  matter  what  it  was." 

"I  wouldn't  mind  that,"  said  Katherine,  with 
the  ghost  of  a  smile  hovering  around  her  white 
lips.  "I  think  I  could  get  along  better  with  a 
stubborn  man  than  I  can  with  a  savage." 

"Be  careful  what  you  say  about  savages,"  put 
in  the  other,  lightly;  "you  know  my  aunt  is  a 
full-blooded  Indian." 

"I  've  often  wondered  about  that.  How  do  you 
suppose  it  happened?" 

"It  is  rather  queer  on  the  face  of  it,  but  it  's 
natural  enough,  when  you  think  it  over.  You 
know  Captain  Wells  was  stolen  by  the  Indians 
when  he  was  a  child  and  he  was  brought  up  like 
one  of  them.  Even  after  his  people  found  him, 
he  refused  to  go  home,  until  his  two  sisters  came 
to  plead  with  him.  Then  he  consented  to  make 


58  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

them  a  visit,  but  he  did  n't  stay  long,  and  went 
back  to  the  Indians  at  the  first  opportunity. 
Their  ways  were  as  impossible  to  him  as  his  were 
to  them.  I  'm  glad  he  married  the  chief's  daugh 
ter,  instead  of  a  common  squaw.  He  and  Little 
Turtle  are  great  friends." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  then  Katherine  re 
verted  to  the  original  topic.  "  I  never  thought  of 
Captain  Franklin  as  stubborn,"  she  said. 

"  Did  n't  you?  Well,  I  just  wish  you  could 
talk  to  him  a  while  after  he  gets  his  mind  made 
up.  Before  that,  there 's  hope,  but  not  afterward ; 
and  you  might  just  as  well  go  out  and  speak  to 
the  stockade  around  the  Fort.  He 's  contrary,  too. 
Yesterday,  for  instance,  he  told  me  he  thought  he  'd 
have  drill,  as  the  men  had  n't  been  out  for  a  long 
time.  I  asked  him  if  some  of  them  were  n't  sick, 
and  he  said  they  were,  but  it  would  n't  hurt  the 
others  any.  Just  then  your  husband  came  in  and 
suggested  drill.  '  Have  n't  thought  about  it,'  says 
Wallace,  turning  away,  and  the  Lieutenant  talked 
ten  minutes  before  he  discovered  nobody  was  list 
ening  to  him.  After  he  went  away,  George  came 
in  and  asked  about  drill.  '  We  won't  have  it  to 
day,'  said  Wallace,  and  that  was  the  end  of  it." 

"  Was  he  like  that  before  you  were  married?" 

"Yes,    only  not  so  bad.     I  mistook  his  deter- 


Ronald's  Views  of  Marriage         59 

mined  siege  for  inability  to  live  without  me,  but 
I  see  now  that  it  was  principally  stubbornness. 
He  made  up  his  mind  to  get  me,  and  here  I  am. 
He  gets  worse  as  he  grows  older — more  '  sot '  in 
his  ways,  as  your  mother  would  say.  I  don't  see 
how  anybody  can  be  that  way.  He  explained  it 
to  me  once,  when  we  were  first  married,  but  I 
could  n't  understand  it." 

"  How  did  he  explain  it?" 

"Well,  as  nearly  as  I  can  remember,  he  said 
that  he  dreaded  to  have  his  mind  begin  making 
itself  up.  It  's  like  a  runaway  horse  that  you 
can't  stop.  He  said  he  might  see  that  he  was 
wrong  and  he  might  want  to  do  differently,  but 
something  inside  of  him  would  n't  let  him.  It 
seems  that  his  mind  suddenly  crystallises,  and 
then  it's  over.  A  crystal  can  be  broken,  but  it 
can't  be  made  liquid  again." 

' 'Is  his  mind  liquid?"  inquired  Katherine, 
choked  with  laughter. 

"  No — I  wish  it  was.  I  'm  glad  you  're  amused, 
but  I  'm  too  close  to  it  to  see  the  fun  in  it.  Was  n't 
your  husband  ever  stubborn  ? ' ' 

"  No ;  I  don't  think  so — at  least,  I  don't  remem 
ber.  I  suppose  he  can't  help  being  jealous  any 
more  than  the  Captain  can  help  being  mulish.  I 
guess  they're  just  born  so." 


60  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Marked,"  suggested  Mrs.  Franklin. 

"Yes — marked.  I  hadn't  thought  of  that. 
Before  we  were  married,  Ralph  was  jealous  of 
everybody  who  spoke  to  me — man,  woman,  or 
brute.  I  could  n't  even  pet  the  cat  or  talk  to  the 
dog." 

"Matrimonial  traits,"  observed  the  Captain's 
wife,  sagely,  "are  the  result  of  pre-nuptial  tend 
encies.  If  you  look  carefully  into  the  subject 
before  you  're  married,  you  can  see  about  what 
you  're  coming  to." 

"  I  guess  that 's  right.  I  need  n't  have  expected 
marriage  to  cure  Ralph  of  jealousy,  but,  like  you, 
I  supposed  it  was  love." 

"My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  with  feeling, 
V'many  a  woman  mistakes  the  flaws  in  a  man's 
character  for  the  ravages  of  the  tender  passion — 
before  marriage." 

"Well,  I  never!"  said  a  soft  voice  behind  them. 
"  Kitty  and  Mamie  talking  scandal!" 

Both  women  jumped. 

"How  did  you  get  in?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Howard. 

"Came  in,"  replied  Ronald,  laconically. 

"Don't  you  know  enough  to  rap?"  asked  Mrs. 
Franklin,  angrily.  Like  others  who  have  been 
christened  "Mary,"  she  was  irritated  beyond 


Ronald's  Views  of  Marriage        61 

measure  at  that  meaningless  perversion  of  her 
name. 

"  Did  rap,"  answered  George,  selecting  the  most 
comfortable  chair,  "but  nobody  heard  me,  so  I 
let  myself  in." 

"How  dare  you  call  me  'Kitty'?"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Howard. 

"  Soldiers  are  n't  afraid  of  anything  except  the 
War  Department." 

"How  long  have  you  been  here?"-  they  asked 
simultaneously. 

"Don't  all  speak  at  once.  I've  been  here  a 
long,  long  time — so  long,  in  fact,  that  I'm  hungry." 
He  looked  past  them  as  he  spoke  and  gazed  pen 
sively  out  of  the  window. 

Mrs.  Franklin's  cheeks  were  blazing  and  her 
eyes  snapped.  "You're  the  very  worst  man  I 
ever  met,"  she  said. 

The  Ensign  sighed  heavily.  "And  yet  I've 
never  been  accused  of  mulishness,"  he  remarked, 
rolling  his  eyes  toward  the  ceiling,  "nor  of  jeal 
ousy,"  he  added.  His  mouth  was  twitching,  and 
the  women  exchanged  glances. 

"  I  admit  an  enormous  appetite,"  he  continued. 
1 '  Wonder  if  it 's  the  ravages  of  the  tender  passion  ? ' ' 

Mrs.  Howard  brought  in  a  plate  of  cookies  and 
set  it  ostentatiously  within  his  reach.  "Lovely 


62  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

woman ! "  apostrophised  George.  "  She  feeds  me ! 
Radiant  vision,  will  you  be  mine?" 

There  was  a  dead  silence. 

"Queer,  is  n't  it,"  observed  the  guest,  between 
mouthfuls,  and  apparently  to  himself,  "that 
women  should  look  so  pretty  when  they're  mad? " 

"Your  wife  will  be  pretty  all  the  time,  then," 
said  Mrs.  Franklin. 

"I  trust  so.  She'll  have  to  have  a  good  start 
at  it,  or  she  won't  get  me,  and  with  the  additional 
stimulus  which  living  with  me  will  give  her,  she'll 
be  nearly  as  lovely  as  the  wives  of  the  other  offi 
cers  at  Fort  Dearborn.  I  could  give  her  no 
higher  praise.  These  cookies  are  all  gone." 

"I  know  it,"  replied  Mrs.  Howard.  "I  gave 
you  all  I  had  left." 

"  If  I  might  presume,"  said  Ronald,  "I'd  like 
the  prescription  they  were  made  by,  to  give  to  my 
wife,  when  I  get  one.  I  suppose  it's  more  in  the 
making  than  in  the  prescription,  and  though  I'll 
undoubtedly  like  'em,  my  native  love  of  truth 
will  oblige  me  to  tell  her  that  they  don't  come  up 
to  those  Kitty — pardon  me,  Mrs.  Howard — used 
to  make  for  me.  I  always  think  of  you  by  your 
first  name,"  he  went  on.  "I  know  it  's  wrong, 
but  I  can't  help  it.  You're  so  good  to  me.  Is  n't 
there  one  more  cooky?" 


Ronald's  Views  of  Marriage        63 

"No,  there  is  n't." 

1  'Your  mother  makes  surpassing  doughnuts. 
Did  she  ever  teach  you  how  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  yes,"  responded  Mrs.  Howard,  coolly; 
"but  I  don't  make  them  very  often.  I  haven't 
made  any  for  months." 

"I  have  the  plan  of  'em  all  written  down,  in 
case  you  should  forget  how.  I  'm  saving  it  for  my 
wife.  Can  I  go  and  look  in  the  pantry?" 

"No,  you  cannot." 

"Why  don't  you  get  married,  George?"  asked 
Mrs.  Franklin,  by  way  of  a  diversion. 

"I've  never  been  asked." 

"  Did  n't  you  ever  ask  anybody?" 

"Oh,  Lord,  yes!  I've  asked  every  girl  I've 
ever  met.  Say,  do  you  know  that  I've  got  so 
now  that  I  can  propose  off-hand,  as  easily  as 
other  fellows  can  after  they've  written  it  out 
and  learned  it?  If  there  was  a  girl  here  at  the 
Fort  who  suited  me,  I'd  ask  everybody  to  my 
wedding  inside  of  two  weeks." 

"Charming  diffidence,"  murmured  Katherine. 

"Modest  soul,"  commented  Mrs.  Franklin. 
"What  kind  of  a  girl  would  suit  you?" 

"I  like  the  domestic  variety.  The  faithful 
kind,  you  know.  One  who  would  n't  gad  all  the 
time.  Good  cook,  and  that  sort  of  thing." 


64  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Some  Indian  girl" — began  the  Captain's  wife. 

"  I  know,"  interrupted  George,  pointedly;  " that 
runs  in  some  families,  but  it  never  has  in  ours. 
Would  n't  mind  an  Indian  aunt,  maybe,  after  I 
got  used  to  her;  but  a  mother-in-law — Lord!" 

Mrs.  Franklin  was  angry  for  an  instant,  then 
she  laughed.  It  was  impossible  for  any  one  to 
harbour  resentment  against  Ronald. 

"I  don't  think  I  could  ever  love  an  ordinary 
girl,"  that  intrepid  youth  resumed,  with  a  dare 
devil  light  in  his  eyes.  "She'd  have  to  be  very 
superior.  Lots  of  girls  get  married  without  any 
clear  idea  of  what  it  means.  For  instance,  while 
I  was  working  day  and  night,  trying  to  earn 
board  and  clothes  for  a  woman,  I  would  n't  like 
to  have  her  trot  over  to  her  friend's  house  to  dis 
cuss  my  faults.  If  that 's  marriage,  I  won't  enlist. ' ' 

"  You  have  n't  any  faults,"  put  in  the  Captain's 
wife,  sweetly.  "There  would  be  nothing  to  dis 
cuss." 

"True,  Mamie,  I  had  forgotten  that.  Thank 
you  for  reminding  me  of  my  perfection.  But  you 
know  what  I  mean.  As  soon  as  I  got  out  of  sight 
of  the  house,  she'd  gallop  over  to  her  friend's,  and 
her  friend  would  say :  '  Good-morning,  Mrs.  Ron 
ald,  you  don't  look  fit  this  morning.  What  has 
that  mean  thing  done  to  you  now?'  " 


Ronald's  Views  of  Marriage        65 

Throwing  himself  thoroughly  into  the  part,  the 
Ensign  got  up  and  proceeded  to  give  an  elaborate 
monologue,  in  falsetto,  punctuated  with  mincing 
steps  and  frequent  rearrangement  of  an  imaginary 
coiffure.  Mrs.  Howard  clasped  her  hands  at  her 
waist  and  the  tears  rolled  down  Mrs.  Franklin's 
cheeks. 

"  And  then  she'd  say,"  Ronald  went  on,  " '  Just 
suppose  you  had  to  live  with  a  mulish,  jealous  man 
who  would  n't  give  you  more  than  nine  dresses 
and  eleven  bonnets  and  four  pairs  of  shoes.  Yes, 
that 's  just  what  the  horrid  thing  has  done.  And 
this  morning,  when  I  asked  for  money  to  get  a 
few  clothes,  so  I  could  look  more  respectable,  he 
gave  me  some,  but  I  caught  him  keeping  back 
fifty -two  cents.  Now,  what  do  you  think  of  that? 
Do  you  suppose  he  's  going  to  take  a  lot  of  men 
out  and  get  'em  all  drunk?'  ' 

The  entrance  of  Captain  Franklin  put  an  end 
to  the  inspired  portrayal  of  wifely  devotion.  As 
Katherine  had  said,  he  did  not  look  stubborn. 
On  the  contrary,  he  seemed  to  be  the  mildest  sort 
of  a  man,  for  he  was  quiet  and  unobtrusive  in 
manner.  His  skin  was  very  white,  and  the  con 
trast  of  his  jet-black  hair  and  mustache  made 
him  look  pale. 

"  Did  you  tell  them  the  news? "  he  asked  Ronald. 

5 


66  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"  Ton  my  word,  Captain,  I  have  n't  had  time. 
They've  been  chattering  so  ever  since  I  came  in 
that  I  'm  nearly  deaf  with  it.  You  tell  'em." 

"I  don't  know  as  you'd  call  it  news,"  said  the 
Captain;  "but  we  can't  afford  to  ignore  any  in 
cident  out  here.  A  Kickapoo  runner  has  come  in 
from  the  Illinois  River,  and  he  says  the  pack- 
trains  are  about  to  start  from  there  and  from  the 
Kankakee,  and  that  they  will  be  here  soon." 

"  It's  an  early  Spring,"  remarked  Mrs.  Franklin. 

"  I'm  glad,"  said  Katherine ;  "I  love  to  be  out 
doors,  and  the  Winters  in  this  lonesome  little  Fort 
are  almost  unbearable." 

"What?"  asked  Ronald,  "with  me  here?" 

"  Drill  to-morrow,"  said  the  Captain,  turning  to 
his  subordinate.  The  Ensign  saluted  gravely,  but 
made  no  reply. 

The  Captain  lingered  a  few  moments,  listening 
while  the  others  talked.  "Are  you  going  home, 
Mary?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  after  a  while.  I'll  go  now  if  you  want 
me  to." 

"  No ;  never  mind.  I  've  got  some  things  to  see 
to." 

"Now  that,"  observed  Ronald,  as  the  Captain 
closed  the  door,  "is  what  I  call  a  true  marriage." 

"  In  what  way?"  asked  Mrs.  Franklin. 


Ronald's  Views  of  Marriage        67 

"This  deference  to  a  husband's  evident  wishes. 
It  might  have  happened  to  me.  Lonesome  George 
comes  into  the  sewing  circle  and  his  glad  eyes  rest 
on  the  wife  of  his  bosom.  Talk  to  the  crowd  a 
little  while  and  get  everybody  to  feeling  good, 
even  though  I'm  on  the  verge  of  starvation. 
Then  I  say :  '  Darling,  are  you  going  back  to  our 
humble  little  home?'  and  she  says:  '  Yes,  George, 
dear,  when  I  get  good  and  ready — bye-bye ! ' ' 

Mrs.  Franklin  was  eager  to  ask  Katherine  how 
much  of  their  conversation  she  supposed  he  had 
overheard,  but  he  seemed  very  comfortable  where 
he  was,  and  at  last  she  folded  up  her  work  and 
went  home,  the  Ensign  bidding  her  an  affectionate 
farewell  at  the  door  and  extending  a  generous  in 
vitation  to  "come  again." 

"There,  Kitty,"  he  sighed,  "at  last  we  are 
alone.  It  has  seemed  so  long!" 

Katherine  turned  upon  him  a  look  which  would 
have  frozen  a  lesser  man  than  Ronald.  "  Please 
call  me  Mrs.  Howard,"  she  requested,  icily. 

"I  can't." 

"Why  not?" 

"Well,  some  way,  it  makes  me  feel  as  if  you 
were  married,  and  I  can't  stand  it  to  be  con 
stantly  reminded  of  my  loss.  'Mrs.  Lieutenant' 
is  better,  'cause  I'm  a  lieutenant,  in  a  way, 


68  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

myself,  but  it's  too  long.  I  suppose  I  can  say 
'  Mrs.  Loot, '  if  you  insist  upon  formality.  I  came  to 
you  with  a  message,  and  that  is  why  I  have  braved 
your  unjust  wrath.  Your  mother  sent  me  to  ask 
you  and  your  husband  to  come  over  to  supper. 
I  've  seen  him  and  he  's  willing.  She 's  been  making 
doughnuts  all  the  afternoon,  and  I  think  there's  a 
pie  or  two,  so  get  your  bonnet  and  come  along." 

"Come  along!  "  repeated  Katherine. 

"Yes,  come  along.     I'm  going,  too." 

"Does  she  know  it?" 

"  I  think  she  suspects  it.  If  she  does  n't,  the 
pleasure  will  have  the  additional  charm  of  a  sur 
prise.  There's  the  Lieutenant  now.  We '11  all  go 
together." 

They  met  on  the  parade-ground  and  she  put 
her  hand  on  her  husband's  arm  timidly,  but  he 
did  not  draw  away  from  her  as  she  had  feared  he 
would,  and  she  became  intuitively  conscious  that 
he  had  determined  to  say  nothing  about  the  un 
lucky  note. 

The  sun  shone  brightly  and  the  March  wind 
swept  the  cobwebs  from  her  mental  vision.  Ralph 
said  very  little ;  but  Ronald,  who  never  required 
the  encouragement  of  an  answer,  talked  unceas 
ingly,  and  it  seemed  to  Katherine  that  the  world 
was  sunny  and  full  of  friends. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    FIRST    FLOWER    OF    SPRING 

r"T*HERE  was  a  report  like  a  pistol  shot  from  the 
1       ice  in  the  river,  followed  by  others  at  short 
intervals.     "That  means  for  us  to  get  out  the 
boats,"  said  Mackenzie  to  Chandonnais. 

Only  one  of  the  boats  stored  in  the  trader's  barn 
was  worthy  of  the  name.  It  was  a  large  bateau, 
capable  of  accommodating  a  dozen  people  and 
a  small  amount  of  baggage.  The  others  were 
pirogues,  or  logs  trimmed  at  the  ends  and  hol 
lowed  out  in  the  centre.  One  person  might  be 
negatively  comfortable,  but  two  crowded  the 
small  craft  to  the  danger-point. 

A  pirogue  furnished  the  ordinary  means  of 
communication  with  the  Fort,  and  two  or  three 
were  fastened  to  a  sapling  on  the  other  side  of  the 
stream.  There  was  also  a  good  boat,  belonging 
to  the  Fort,  which  would  hold  five  or  six  people. 
The  bateau  was  used  for  carrying  freight  between 
the  Fort,  the  Agency  House,  and  Mackenzie's. 

69 


70  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

The  river  was  a  narrow,  deep,  weedy  channel, 
with  a  very  slight  fall,  and  a  large  sand-bar 
stretched  across  the  mouth  of  it.  In  Summer,  one 
could  stand  at  the  end  of  the  broad  piazza,  in 
front  of  the  house  and  see  the  Indians  in  their 
light  canoes  pass  the  sand-bar  at  will,  go  down 
into  the  lake,  and  return  up-stream. 

Gradually  the  river  filled  with  great  masses  of 
ice,  which  moved  lazily  in  a  circle  at  the  whim  of 
some  concealed  current,  or  drifted  gently  toward 
the  mouth  of  the  stream.  For  several  days  there 
was  no  communication  with  the  Fort;  then  Mac 
kenzie  broke  the  ice-jam  at  the  bar,  and  by  the 
middle  of  March  a  boat  could  easily  cross. 

Seemingly  by  preconcerted  arrangement,  the 
pack-trains  arrived  during  the  last  week  of  March. 
Twenty  horses  came  from  the  Illinois  and  Kan- 
kakee  districts,  and  seventeen  from  the  Rock 
River,  loaded  with  skins.  For  a  year  the  Indians 
in  the  Mississippi  valley  had  exchanged  peltries 
for  provisions,  beads,  and  liquor.  Five  Canadian 
engages,  with  rude  camping  outfits  strapped  to 
their  backs,  walked  in  leisurely  fashion  beside  the 
horses. 

The  skins  were  stored  in  the  Agency  House, 
awaiting  the  schooner  from  the  American  Fur 
Company  at  Fort  Mackinac.  The  horses  were 


The  First  Flower  of  Spring         71 

tethered  on  the  plains  near  the  Fort,  and  business 
was  carried  on  there,  except  at  meal-time,  when 
eight  hungry  men  and  four  children  taxed  Mrs. 
Mackenzie's  strength  to  the  utmost. 

Three  days  later  the  schooner  was  sighted,  bear 
ing  down  from  the  north,  and,  as  it  was  practically 
the  only  event  of  the  year,  the  settlement  went  in 
force  to  the  lake  shore  to  see  it  come  in.  A  cor 
poral's  guard,  bitterly  complaining,  was  left  at  the 
Fort. 

With  the  wind  filling  her  sails,  the  ship  steered 
south-west  until  she  reached  a  point  exactly  op 
posite  the  mouth  of  the  river,  then  turned  swiftly, 
like  a  bird,  and  came  toward  the  cheering  crowd 
on  shore.  The  waves  broke  in  foam  upon  her 
keel,  and  amid  the  shouts  of  command  and  wel 
come  and  the  clatter  of  the  rigging,  came  the  song 
of  a  voyageur,  in  a  clear,  high  tenor,  which  won 
a  separate  recognition. 

"More  men  to  feed,"  sighed  Mrs.  Mackenzie. 

"  Never  mind,  Aunt  Eleanor,"  said  Forsyth, 
"I'm  going  to  help  you." 

"Me,  too!     Me,  too!"  cried  the  children. 

Mrs.  Howard  and  Mrs.  Franklin  promptly  of 
fered  their  services,  and  Ronald  put  an  affection 
ate  arm  about  her  waist.  "  Don't  bother,  Aunt 
Eleanor,"  he  said;  "you've  got  me." 


72  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Forsyth  was  surprised  at  the  speech,  and  still 
more  astonished  when  the  Ensign  made  it  good 
during  the  hard  days  that  followed.  He  tied  a 
big  blue  apron  under  his  arms,  unmindful  of  its 
ridiculous  flapping  about  his  knees,  set  his  cap  on 
the  back  of  his  head,  rolled  up  his  sleeves,  and 
announced  that  he  was  ready  for  work.  Forsyth 
helped  him  split  wood,  bring  water,  make  fires, 
and  wash  dishes  until  his  head  swam  with  weari 
ness;  but  through  it  all,  Ronald  was  serene  and 
untroubled,  keeping  up  a  cheery  whistle  and  a 
fusillade  of  comment  and  observation  which  light 
ened  the  situation  exceedingly. 

Mrs.  Mackenzie  found  herself  taking  orders 
from  the  young  soldier  who  was  the  self-constit 
uted  master  of  the  cuisine,  and  learned  to  obey 
without  question,  even  when  she  was  sent  to  her 
easy-chair  early  in  the  morning  and  kept  there 
during  the  greater  part  of  the  day. 

Mrs.  Howard  and  Mrs.  Franklin  were  uncere 
moniously  put  out.  "  Kitty  and  Mamie,"  pleaded 
the  Ensign,  in  an  aggravating  falsetto,  "will  you 
please  run  home?  Your  mother  has  enough  to 
feed  without  your  trotting  in  to  meals."  He 
accompanied  the  request  with  a  threatening  wave 
of  a  spoon  filled  with  pancake  batter,  which  had 
the  desired  effect. 


The  First  Flower  of  Spring         73 

"There,"  he  said,  "I've  finally  chased  'em  out. 
I  do  hate  to  have  women  bothering  around  me, 
don't  you,  Rob?" 

"I've  never  been  bothered,"  laughed  Forsyth; 
"at  least,  not  in  that  way." 

Swiftly  upon  the  heels  of  the  schooner  came  the 
boats  from  Milwaukee.  The  cargoes  were  landed 
on  the  lake  shore  and  taken  to  the  Agency  by  the 
pack-horses.  All  day  the  patient  beasts  plodded 
to  and  fro,  carrying  furs  to  the  shore,  and  provi 
sions,  blankets,  calicoes,  prints,  and  a  thousand 
other  things  to  the  storehouse.  The  small  boats 
from  the  ship  plied  back  and  forth,  landing  the 
cargo  and  taking  back  peltries,  and  the  men 
worked  from  sunrise  to  sunset. 

An  unusual  amount  of  friction  developed  be 
tween  the  several  engages  and  voyageurs,  and  vari 
ous  disputes  were  settled  on  the  spot  with  bare 
fists.  Chandonnais  had  a  rare  talent  for  getting 
into  trouble,  and  few  indeed  were  the  fights  in 
which  he  did  not  eventually  take  a  leading 
part. 

"Chan,"  said  Mackenzie,  at  length,  "you  ain't 
paid  to  fight,  but  to  work;  and  if  there  's  any 
more  of  this  I  '11  send  you  to  one  of  the  other 
posts."  This  threat  was  always  effectual,  for  some 
reason  which  the  trader  did  not  seek  to  know. 


74  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

At  last  the  tired  horses  finished  their  task  and 
every  skin  was  in  the  hold  of  the  schooner.  The 
Agency  House  was  filled  to  bursting  with  the  ma 
terials  of  trade,  and  a  small  but  precious  horde 
of  gold  pieces,  representing  the  balance  in  his 
favour,  was  hidden  in  Mackenzie's  leather  belt. 

There  was  a  day  of  rest  for  everybody  except 
Mrs.  Mackenzie  and  her  assistants;  then  Chan- 
donnais  surprised  the  trader  by  a  demand  for  his 
year's  wages. 

"Why,  Chan!"  exclaimed  Mackenzie,  "don't 
you  want  me  to  keep  it  for  you  as  I've  been 
a-doing?" 

The  half-breed  shook  his  head  sullenly. 

"Well,  it's  yours,  and  you  can  do  just  as  you 
please  with  it,  but  I  guess  you'll  be  sorry  for  it 
later.  Mind,  now,  this  is  all  till  next  year — you 
don't  get  any  advance." 

Chan  agreed,  and  Mackenzie  called  Robert  to 
witness  the  transaction.  Five  shining  ten-dollar 
gold  pieces  were  counted  out  into  a  grimy  paw 
that  closed  upon  them  quickly,  as  if  in  fear. 

"  Fifty  dollars  and  found,"  Mackenzie  explained 
to  Robert  as  Chandonnais  went  away.  "I  don't 
grudge  it  neither,  for  he  's  a  good  boy  when  he 
ain't  fighting." 

The  schooner  was  lying  by  for  a  favouring  wind, 


The  First  Flower  of  Spring         75 

and  the  pack-trains  were  waiting  to  give  the 
horses  a  needed  rest.  Mackenzie  had  made  an 
equitable  division  of  the  stores  at  the  Agency,  and 
each  of  the  engages  knew  exactly  what  he  was  to 
take  back  with  him,  and  the  approximate  value 
of  each  article  in  terms  of  peltries.  During  the 
day  liquor  flowed  freely,  and  at  night  there  was  a 
barbecue  on  the  lake  shore. 

A  young  ox  was  roasted  whole,  in  front  of  a 
huge  fire  which  could  be  seen  for  miles  around. 
Forsyth  and  the  Mackenzies,  with  their  four 
children,  and  the  officers  and  men  from  the  Fort 
with  their  wives  and  families,  sat  around  on  the 
sand  and  took  part  in  the  celebration.  A  single 
sentinel  patrolled  the  Fort,  cursing  his  luck,  and 
a  few  stray  Indians  watched  the  festive  scene 
from  afar. 

Chandonnais  had  his  violin,  and  the  fine  tenor 
of  the  voyageur  was  lifted  in  song — old  French 
chansons  and  garbled  melodies  of  the  day.  The 
strings  of  the  fiddle  were  twanged  in  delicate  ac 
companiment  until  the  singer  struck  up  Yankee 
Doodle,  which,  owing  to  the  French  accent  and  the 
peculiar  distortion  of  the  tune,  was  taken  by  the 
company  as  a  humorous  performance. 

The  men  ate  hungrily,  and  at  last  even  Ronald 
was  satisfied.  Then  a  sudden  thought  struck  him, 


76  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

and  he  went  over  to  speak  to  Captain  Franklin. 
"Good-bye,  everybody,"  he  shouted. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Forsyth. 

"I'm  going  back  to  relieve  that  poor  devil  at 
the  Fort." 

In  spite  of  a  chorus  of  protests,  he  went,  and  the 
lone  sentry  appeared  presently,  grinning  from  ear 
to  ear,  to  feast  and  revel  while  his  superior  officer 
kept  guard  with  a  bayonet  over  his  shoulder.  It 
was  such  trifles  as  this  which  endeared  Ronald  to 
the  soldiers.  There  was  not  a  man  in  barracks 
who  would  not  have  followed  him  cheerfully  to 
certain  death. 

The  fire  died  down  and  some  of  the  men  slept 
peacefully  on  the  sand,  while  others  yawned 
openly.  Chandonnais  improvised  a  weird  melody 
which  was  strangely  out  of  keeping.  There  was 
something  uncanny  in  the  air  which  accorded  ill 
with  the  festival,  and  it  seemed  only  fitting  and 
proper  when  Mad  Margaret  materialised  from  the 
outer  darkness  and  came  into  the  centre  of  the 
group. 

A  hush  came  over  the  company  and  some  of  the 
newcomers,  who  had  heard  wild  tales  of  Mar 
garet,  were  secretly  afraid.  Chandonnais  kept  on 
playing,  and  she  watched  him  with  wide,  wonder 
ing  eyes.  For  a  long  time  the  magic  of  the  strings 


The  First  Flower  of  Spring         77 

kept  her  quiet,  then  she  began  to  mutter  to  her 
self  uneasily. 

" Margaret,"  said  Mackenzie,  gently,  "come 
here." 

Chandonnais  threw  down  his  violin  with  a  ges 
ture  of  impatience,  beckoned  to  the  singer,  and 
walked  away  rapidly.  The  voyageur  rose  lazily, 
yawned,  and  followed  him  with  seeming  indiffer 
ence. 

Margaret's  eyes  were  shining  like  the  live  coals 
which  gleamed  in  the  ashes.  She  leaned  forward 
and  picked  up  the  violin,  stroking  it  and  crooning 
to  it  as  if  it  were  a  child. 

" Margaret,"  said  Mackenzie  again,  "come 
here." 

She  went  to  him  with  a  dog-like,  unquestioning 
obedience,  and  sat  down  in  front  of  him.  Mrs. 
Mackenzie  was  next  to  her  husband,  with  the  baby 
in  her  lap,  and  Mrs.  Howard  sat  on  her  mother's 
left.  The  Lieutenant  was  talking  with  Forsyth 
and  the  Captain,  and  at  a  little  distance,  on  Mac 
kenzie's  right,  sat  Doctor  Norton. 

A  sharp  cry  came  from  the  violin,  where  Mar 
garet's  fingers  tightened  on  the  strings.  "I  see 
blood,"  she  said, — "much  blood,  then  fire,  and 
afterward  peace." 

No    one    spoke,    and    Margaret    mumbled    to 


78  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

herself,  then  pounced  upon  Katherine.  She  took 
her  by  the  shoulders  and  shook  her  roughly.  ' '  You 
will  have  your  heart's  desire,"  she  cried,  "at 
the  time  of  the  blood,  but  sorrow  will  come 
with  it!" 

Before  any  one  else  had  time  to  move,  Doctor 
Norton  caught  Margaret  and  pulled  her  away. 

"  Oh,"  she  shrieked,  shaking  her  fist  in  his  face, 
"the  Red  Death  has  its  fingers  at  your  throat!" 

Mackenzie  picked  up  the  violin,  found  the  bow 
in  the  darkness,  and  began  to  play — rudely 
enough,  it  is  true,  but  in  some  semblance  of 
rhythm.  Margaret  quieted  almost  immediately, 
and  sat  down  in  front  of  him,  rocking  back  and 
forth  in  time  with  the  faltering  tune. 

"Aunt  Eleanor,"  said  Forsyth,  over  her  shoul 
der,  "  don't  you  think  I  'd  better  take  the  children 
home?" 

"Yes,  please,  if  you  will." 

She  put  the  sleeping  baby  into  his  arms,  woke 
Maria  Indiana,  and  directed  Ellen  and  Johnny  to 
go  with  "Cousin  Rob."  The  procession  moved 
slowly,  for  the  baby  was  heavy,  and  the  other 
children  were  inclined  to  linger.  Mad  Margaret 
had  a  terrible  fascination  for  them. 

As  they  passed  a  grove  of  cottonwoods,  angry 
voices  came  from  the  thicket,  in  a  mongrel  French 


The  First  Flower  of  Spring         79 

which  had  but  little  in  common  with  that  Robert 
had  learned  at  Yale. 

"  It  is  abominable,"  cried  Chandonnais.  "  It  is 
too  much!" 

"So?"  laughed  the  other,  mockingly;  "and 
only  last  year  you  told  me  you  would  pay  the 
price!" 

"A  year's  wages  for  a  common  crucifix!" 

"  It  is  no  common  crucifix.  It  is  of  solid  silver, 
and  it  is  from  the  old  mission,  where  it  was  blessed 
by  Pere  Marquette  himself." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"The  good  Father  told  me  so.  It  has  been 
blessed  by  Pere  Marquette  and  by  all  the  holy  men 
who  have  come  after  him.  It  will  cure  disease 
and  keep  from  all  harm." 

"Well,"   sighed  Chandonnais,   "I'll  take  it." 

Robert  heard  the  clink  of  the  half-breed's 
hard-earned  gold,  and  wondered  whether  he  had 
spent  the  whole  of  it  for  a  cross. 

The  next  day  the  prevailing  wind  of  Summer 
blew  warm  and  strong  from  the  south-west,  and 
the  sails  of  the  schooner  filled  as  if  in  anticipation. 
Robert  thought  of  the  hardy  Romans  in  the^Eneid, 
when  "the  breezes  called  their  sails,"  as  once 
again  the  people  gathered  on  the  shore. 

Letters  and  messages  to  friends  at  Fort  Mac- 


8o  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

kinac,  together  with  many  trifling  gifts,  were 
pressed  upon  the  crew.  A  long  line  of  foam  lay 
upon  the  turquoise  water  when  out  in  the  sunlit 
distance  the  ship  turned  to  the  north,  and  hands 
were  waved  in  farewell  long  after  the  others  had 
ceased  to  see.  The  Mackenzies  were  glad  it  was 
over,  even  though  a  long  year  was  to  pass  without 
communication  with  the  outside  world,  but  others 
were  sorry.  Chandonnais  was  non-committal  and 
hummed  to  himself  the  song  of  the  voyageur. 

The  pack-trains  were  loaded,  the  patient  horses 
bending  under  a  heavier  burden  than  they  had 
brought ;  the  boats  started  to  Milwaukee  after  all 
of  the  engages  had  been  given  another  round  of 
liquor,  and  a  pack-train  followed  them  north  on 
land.  The  others,  silhouetted  against  the  setting 
sun,  went  west  over  the  unbroken  prairie;  the 
drowsy  tinkle  of  the  bells  died  away  in  a  silvery 
murmur,  and  peace  lay  on  Fort  Dearborn. 

At  the  end  of  the  week  there  was  a  diversion 
which  was  entirely  unexpected — as  most  real 
diversions  contrive  to  be.  Mrs.  Mackenzie  was  in 
the  garden,  planting  flower  seeds,  when  soft  foot 
steps  sounded  on  the  bare  earth  beside  her,  and  a 
sweet  voice  said,  "  How  do  you  do,  Aunt  Eleanor?" 

"Why,  Beatrice!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mackenzie, 


The  First  Flower  of  Spring         81 

kissing  her  warmly.  "Where  did  you  come 
from?" 

''From  Fort  Wayne,  with  Captain  Wells — he's 
across  the  river.  I  rowed  over  by  myself.  I  was 
so  afraid  you'd  see  me  coming  and  wouldn't  be 
surprised." 

"My  dear!     I'm  so  glad!" 

"Maybe  you  won't  be,  when  I  tell  you.  I've 
come  to  live  with  you,  Aunt  Eleanor." 

"That  makes  me  happier  still,"  said  Mrs. 
Mackenzie,  in  her  stately  way.  "  You  are 
welcome." 

"Thank  you,  Aunty;  but  I  have  n't  come  to  be 
a  burden  to  you,  and  I  trust  I  never  shall  be.  If 
I  'm  ever  a  trouble,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  so  and 
send  me  away.  In  the  first  place,  I  have  fought 
most  terribly  with  my  aunt  and  uncle  at  Fort 
Wayne.  They  don't  know  I  've  come." 

"Why,  my  dear!     How  could  you?" 

"  Oh,  they  know  it  now,"  said  Beatrice,  laconic 
ally,  with  her  head  on  one  side.  "  If  they  don't, 
the  suspense  will  do  them  good.  Anyhow,  they 
know  I  'm  not  there,  and  that  's  enough.  You 
know  I  have  a  little  income  of  my  own,  Aunty,  so 
I  'm  not  dependent  upon  any  one,  and  I  'm  going 
to  pay  my  board.  If  you  won't  let  me,"  she  con 
tinued,  warningly,  seeing  disapproval  on  Mrs. 

6 


82  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Mackenzie's  kindly  face,  "I'm  going  back  with 
Captain  Wells  to-morrow,  so  now!" 

"I'll  let  you  do  anything  you  want  to,  dear,  if 
you  '11  only  stay  with  me.  I  have  needed  a  grown 
daughter  ever  since  Katherine  was  married." 

"Then  it's  all  arranged,  and  I'll  stay  with  you 
for  ever.  I  know  I  never  could  fight  with  you." 

"Here  comes  your  uncle." 

The  trader  beamed  with  delight  when  Beatrice 
cast  herself  upon  him  and  kissed  him  twice.  "  I '  ve 
come  to  live  with  you,"  she  said,  "and  I've  just 
fixed  it  with  Aunt  Eleanor.  Captain  Wells  is  over 
at  the  Fort  with  the  soldiers.  We  brought  ten 
with  us — it  was  quite  an  army,  and  the  Captain 
kept  up  military  discipline  all  along  the  trail,  with 
me  for  First  Lieutenant.  They're  going  to  stay 
at  the  Fort,  and  I'm  going  to  stay  here."  She 
pirouetted  around  him  in  high  spirits. 

"You're  welcome,  Bee;  but  how  did  it  hap 
pen?" 

"I  fought,"  explained  Beatrice,  carelessly. 
"They  told  me  what  I  should  do  and  what  I 
should  n't.  Nobody  ever  says  'must'  to  me.  If 
you  ever  want  me  to  do  anything,  you'll  have  to 
say  'please.'  Would  you  mind  going  over  to  the 
Fort  after  my  things,  Uncle?  I  've  got  a  big  box 
with  all  my  worldly  goods  inside  of  it." 


The  First  Flower  of  Spring         83 

Mackenzie  went,  for  men  always  did  as  Bea 
trice  suggested. 

"Come  in,  dear,"  said  her  aunt.  "You  can 
have  the  east  room,  so  you'll  get  the  morning 
sun." 

"How  sweet  you  are,  Aunt  Eleanor,"  mur 
mured  the  girl,  with  her  arm  thrown  around  the 
other's  shoulders,  for  she  was  even  taller  than 
Mrs.  Mackenzie.  Her  face  had  the  deep,  creamy 
tint  which  sometimes  goes  with  violet  eyes  and 
brown  hair  with  auburn  lights  in  it.  Beneath  a 
short  nose,  tilted  ever  so  slightly,  was  the  most 
bewitching  mouth  in  the  world — small  and  per 
fect  in  shape,  dangerously  curved,  and  full  of  a 
daring  coquetry.  When  she  smiled,  one  saw  that 
her  teeth  were  small  and  white  and  absolutely 
even,  but  soon  forgot  that  minor  detail.  At  first 
glance,  no  one  would  have  called  her  pretty ;  she 
was  like  something  beautiful  which  must  be 
studied  before  it  is  appreciated. 

The  arrival  of  the  visitor  had  effectually  broken 
up  the  school.  "Tuzzin  Bee!  Tuzzin  Bee!" 
crowed  Maria  Indiana,  delightedly. 

"You  darling,"  cried  Beatrice,  catching  the 
child  in  her  arms;  "have  you  remembered  me  a 
whole  year?" 

Robert  was  introduced  as  "a  cousin  on  the 


84  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

other  side  of  the  house,"  and  he  bent  gravely  over 
the  girl's  hand. 

"Are  we  truly  cousins?"  she  asked. 

There  was  a  confused  silence,  then  Robert 
found  his  tongue.  "  I  trust  we  are,"  he  said,  with 
the  air  of  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  ' '  for  you 
are  the  first  flower  of  Spring." 

The  door  burst  open  and  Ronald  entered. 
"What  do  you  think,"  he  shouted;  "we've  got 
troops!  Captain  Wells  has  brought  ten  soldiers 
to  the  Fort!" 

"Miss  Manning,"  said  Mrs.  Mackenzie,  "let  me 
present  Ensign  George  Ronald,  of  Fort  Dearborn." 

Beatrice  bowed,  but  he  stared  at  her  for  an  in 
stant,  then  brought  his  heels  together  and  raised 
his  hand  to  his  forehead  in  military  salute.  There 
was  an  awkward  instant,  then  the  deep  crimson 
dyed  the  Ensign's  face.  He  turned — and  bolted. 

From  the  window  Beatrice  saw  him,  in  a 
pirogue,  pulling  back  to  the  Fort  as  if  his  life  de 
pended  upon  it,  then  she  laughed — a  deep,  sweet, 
vibrant  laugh,  that  thrilled  Robert  to  the  very 
depths  of  his  soul. 


CHAPTER  VI 

COUSINS 

"    A    UNTY,"   said  Beatrice,   at  breakfast  the 

/"\  next  morning,  "do  you  think  I  scared 
him  to  death?" 

"What  do  you  mean,  dear?" 

"  Why,  that  young  man — yesterday.  Mr.  Ron 
ald  is  his  name,  is  n't  it?" 

Mrs.  Mackenzie  laughed  at  the  memory  of  the 
Ensign's  scarlet  face.  "  I  think  he'll  get  over  it," 
she  said;  "don't  you,  Rob?" 

"I  certainly  do.  He's  the  last  man  in  the 
world  to  be  afraid  of  a  woman." 

"Oh,  yes,  he'll  recover,"  put  in  Mackenzie,  sig 
nificantly. 

"I  think  it's  lovely  here,"  observed  Beatrice, 
irrelevantly,  "and  I  know  I'm  going  to  like  it." 

"We're  going  to  try  very  hard  to  make  you 
happy,"  said  Forsyth,  with  evident  sincerity. 

"I've  wanted  to  live  with  Aunt  Eleanor  ever 
85 


86  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

since  last  Spring,  when  they  all  came  to  Fort 
Wayne.  Otherwise,  I  would  n't  have  fought. 
That  is,  perhaps  I  would  n't." 

Rising  from  the  table,  she  went  out  on  the 
piazza,  and  Robert  instinctively  followed  her.  If 
the  long  journey  on  horseback  had  tired  her,  she 
showed  no  sign  of  it,  for  she  might  have  been  a 
part  of  the  morning  as  she  stood  there,  smiling, 
with  the  sunlight  on  her  wind-blown  hair. 

The  heavy  brown  coil,  with  auburn  lights  and 
black  shadows  in  it,  had  a  strange  fascination  for 
Forsyth.  He  liked  the  way  her  hair  grew  around 
her  forehead  and  temples,  and  the  little  curl  that 
escaped  at  her  neck.  She  was  looking  away  from 
him,  and  he  thought  her  unaware  of  his  scrutiny 
till  she  said  quietly:  "Well,  how  do  you  like 
your  new  cousin?  Do  you  think  I  will  do?" 

"Yes,"  he  stammered,  dimly  grateful  for  the 
impulse  that  kept  her  face  still  turned  away; 
"that  is,  very  much." 

"How  am  I  going  to  get  my  horse  over  here," 
she  demanded  suddenly. 

"What  horse?"  asked  Robert,  stupidly. 

"The  one  I  rode  from  Fort  Wayne,  of  course. 
Did  I  understand  you  to  say  you  had  been  to 
college?" 

"Yes;  I  graduated." 


Cousins  87 

11  Really?"  Beatrice  turned  upon  him  a  daz 
zling  smile.  "I  never  should  have  thought  it," 
she  added  pleasantly. 

"Where  is  your  horse?"  he  asked,  crimsoning. 

"You  don't  see  it  anywhere,  do  you?" 

"N— no." 

"Then,  obviously,  it's  at  the  Fort,  is  n't  it?" 

"I — I  suppose  so." 

"Well,  then,  we're  making  progress.  Now, 
how  do  I  get  it  over  here  ? ' ' 

"  Swim,"  said  Robert,  helplessly,  at  his  wit's  end. 

Beatrice  stamped  her  small  foot  upon  the  piazza. 
"Uncle  John,"  she  called,  "come  here!  How  is 
Queen  coming  across  the  river?"  she  asked,  when 
he  appeared. 

"Well,  now,  Bee,  I  don't  know.  There  's  no 
bridge  and  no  way  to  go  around.  She'll  either 
have  to  come  in  a  boat  or  swim." 

Robert  flashed  a  grateful  glance  at  him,  but 
said  nothing. 

"She  won't  get  into  a  boat,"  said  Beatrice, 
with  a  puzzled  little  frown  on  her  face.  "We 
swam  a  river  together  once,  but  she  did  n't  like 
it,  and  we  both  got  wet." 

"  Go  down  near  the  bar  and  come  across,"  sug 
gested  Forsyth,  having  partially  recovered  his 
self-possession.  "  It  can't  be  very  deep  there." 


88  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"  No ;  but  the  sand  is  soft.  Better  leave  her  at 
the  Fort,  Bee,  and  you  can  go  over  there  when 
you  want  her.  It's  safer,"  he  added.  "The  In 
dians  might  get  her  out  of  my  barn,  but  she'll  be 
all  right  in  the  garrison  stables." 

"That  settles  it,"  replied  Beatrice.  "Here 
comes  Captain  Wells." 

An  erect,  soldierly  figure  came  up  the  path  with 
the  characteristic  walk  of  the  Indian.  His  eyes 
were  small  and  dark,  and  his  face  was  bronzed 
like  the  people  among  whom  he  had  lived;  but 
when  he  smiled  at  Beatrice  and  bowed  with  mock 
humility,  all  traces  of  the  savage  were  instantly 
effaced.  He  wore  the  rough  garb  of  the  plains 
man,  and  the  only  suggestion  of  vanity  was  in  the 
black  ribbon  that  tied  his  queue. 

"  Mackenzie,"  he  said,  "  I  warn  you.  You  have 
a  tyrannical  commander-in-chief." 

Beatrice  pouted  prettily.  "I'm  sorry  for 
Uncle  John,"  she  said;  "but  it's  too  late  to  help 
him  now.  I've  come  for  keeps." 

All  the  time  he  was  speaking,  Captain  Wells 's 
piercing  glance  was  fixed  upon  Forsyth,  to  whom 
he  had  just  been  introduced,  but  of  whom  he  had 
heard  at  the  Fort,  and  the  young  man  grew 
vaguely  uncomfortable. 

"Your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Captain  Wells.     "I 


Cousins  89 

fear  the  manners  of  the  prairie  seem  strange  to  a 
gentleman  of  culture.  My  only  excuse  is  that 
your  face  interests  me." 

"Come  on  over  to  the  Fort,  Cousin  Rob,"  sug 
gested  Beatrice,  with  ready  tact,  "and  I'll  intro 
duce  you  to  Queen.  They  don't  want  us  here, 
anyhow." 

Together  they  climbed  into  the  pirogue  in  which 
Captain  Wells  had  crossed  the  river,  and  with 
some  difficulty  reached  the  opposite  shore.  Ron 
ald  was  standing  at  the  entrance,  talking  with  the 
sentinel,  and  when  he  saw  them  coming  he  went 
toward  the  barracks  with  more  haste  than  dig 
nity.  Forsyth  laughed,  but  Beatrice  held  her 
head  high,  and  a  faint  flush  stole  into  her  cheeks. 

"Where  are  the  stables,  Cousin  Rob?" 

"This  way." 

Robert's  involuntary  gasp  of  admiration  at  the 
sight  of  Queen  instantly  placed  him  high  in  his 
fair  cousin's  favour.  "  Is  n't  she  a  beauty?"  she 
asked. 

The  little  black  mare  whinnied  joyously  at  the 
approach  of  her  young  mistress,  prancing  and  cur 
vetting  prettily  in  spite  of  her  halter. 

"Poor  dear,"  said  Beatrice,  "you  aren't  used 
to  being  tied,  are  you?" 

She  led  the  horse  out  on  the  parade-ground  and 


QO  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

exclaimed  with  pleasure  at  the  satin  smoothness 
of  the  glossy  coat.  The  grooms  had  done  their 
work  well  and  stood  around,  grinning  broadly, 
while  she  praised  them.  The  mare  might  have 
hailed  from  the  blue  grass  country,  so  perfect  were 
her  lines.  She  was  built  for  speed  as  well  as 
beauty,  and  the  small  black  hoofs  pawed  the 
ground  impatiently,  as  she  rubbed  her  velvet  nose 
against  her  owner's  cheek  by  way  of  a  caress. 

"There  isn't  any  sugar,  Queen,"  laughed  the 
girl,  "and  I  just  came  to  say  good-morning." 

"  We '11  have  some  rides  on  the  prairie  together," 
said  Robert.  "My  horse  isn't  much,  compared 
with  yours,  but  he  used  to  get  along  pretty  well  on 
the  roads  back  East." 

"Are  n't  there  any  roads  here?" 

"  I  have  n't  discovered  any,  but  the  prairie  is  n't 
bad." 

"Come  on  out  now,"  said  Beatrice,  "and  I'll 
show  you  what  she  can  do." 

As  they  passed  the  barracks,  Robert  was  dimly 
aware  of  Ronald's  scrutiny  from  some  safe  point 
of  observation;  but  Beatrice  chattered  merrily 
until  they  reached  the  open  space  beyond  the 
Fort. 

A  convenient  stump  stood  near  by  and  she  led 
the  mare  to  it.  "Now  then,  Beauty,"  she  said. 


Cousins  91 

In  an  instant  she  was  mounted  on  Queen's  bare 
back,  and  there  ensued  an  exhibition  of  horseman 
ship  that  would  have  put  a  cavalryman  to  shame. 
Some  of  the  soldiers  came  out  to  see  the  mare 
change  her  gait  at  a  word  from  her  rider,  and  turn 
readily  with  neither  bit  nor  bridle.  The  pins 
dropped,  one  by  one,  from  the  girl's  hair,  and 
when  she  turned  out  on  the  open  plain  for  a  final 
gallop,  it  streamed  out  behind  her  as  Atalanta's 
may  have  done  when  she  made  her  last 
race. 

Beatrice  was  riding  like  the  wind.  She  went 
straight  on  until  she  was  scarcely  a  speck  upon 
the  horizon,  then  circled  back  gradually.  Queen 
was  on  her  mettle,  and  no  dame  of  high  degree 
ever  held  her  head  more  proudly  than  the  little 
black  mare  with  the  tossing  mane.  With  a  last 
turn  she  came  toward  the  Fort  straight  as  an 
arrow,  and  stopped  so  suddenly  at  the  word  that 
she  was  thrown  back  upon  her  haunches. 

The  girl  slipped  to  the  ground,  laughing  and 
flushed.  "Oh!"  she  cried,  "that  was  glorious, 
wasn't  it,  Queen?" 

"I'm  proud  of  my  cousin,"  was  all  Forsyth 
said;  but  there  was  a  volume  of  meaning  in  the 
tone. 

A  groom  led  the  horse  away  to  be  rubbed  down, 


92  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

and  Beatrice  began  a  fruitless  search  for  the  lost 
hairpins,  in  which  Robert  refused  to  join  her. 
"  Don't  put  it  up,"  he  pleaded,  "  you  look  so  much 
prettier  with  it  down." 

"I  can't,  anyway,"  she  said.  "I  haven't  a 
single  pin." 

The  heavy  mass  of  brown  and  auburn  hung  far 
below  her  waist,  rippling  ever  so  slightly,  and  end 
ing  in  a  curl.  A  pink  flush  was  on  her  face  and 
her  eyes  were  dancing.  ''Come,"  she  continued, 
"  they're  talking  about  me  over  there,  and  I  know 
it." 

She  had  hit  upon  the  truth,  for  the  Mackenzies 
were  having  an  animated  conference  with  Cap 
tain  Wells.  "I  never  suspected  there  was  any 
trouble,"  he  was  saying,  "and  she  didn't  men 
tion  it.  She  was  waiting  for  us  a  piece  up  the 
trail,  and  two  men  with  her  were  carrying  her 
box.  She  said  she  was  coming,  so  the  soldiers 
took  her  things  and  she  rode  with  me. 

"As  she  told  you,  they  probably  know  it  now, 
but  I'll  see  them  the  first  thing  when  I  go  back 
and  explain.  They'll  be  glad  to  know  she's  safe. 
She's  as  skittish  a  filly  as  I 've  ever  laid  eyes  on — 
she  won't  wear  a  bit,  nor  stand;  and  that  little 
black  devil  that  she  rides  is  made  out  of  the  same 
kind  of  timber.  The  two  of  them  will  have  the 


Cousins  93 

settlement  by  the  ears  inside  of  a  month — you 
wait  and  see." 

Beatrice  appeared  at  this  juncture  and  pointed 
a  rosy  finger  at  Captain  Wells.  "  Perjurer!"  she 
laughed.  " You've  been  taking  my  character 
away  from  me!" 

"  I  never  tell  anything  but  the  truth,  Miss,"  re 
turned  the  Captain,  awkwardly.  "Are  you  going 
back  with  me  this  afternoon?" 

"I  told  you  once,"  she  answered,  "that  I  was 
going  to  live  with  Aunt  Eleanor.  I'm  never 
going  to  Fort  Wayne  again!" 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  take  a  letter  or  a  message 
to  your  people  ? ' ' 

"No!"  cried  Beatrice,  with  her  eyes  blazing. 
"  If  you  dare  to  mention  me  to  them,  or  say 
I  sent  any  kind  of  a  message,  I'll — I'll  haunt 
you!" 

The  Captain  went  out,  murmuring  confused 
apologies ;  and  Robert,  feeling  himself  in  the  way, 
went  to  his  room.  The  moccasins  hanging  on  the 
wall  gave  him  a  vivid  moment  of  self-knowledge. 
The  dainty,  arched  foot  he  had  seen  for  the  first 
time  when  Beatrice  stamped  on  the  piazza,  might 
easily  have  been  the  one  for  which  the  moccasins 
were  made.  He  stroked  the  pretty  things  caress 
ingly,  with  a  soft  light  in  his  eyes. 


94  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"I  knew  she  was  coming,"  he  said  to  himself; 
"but  how  did  I  know?" 

In  the  afternoon,  Mackenzie  and  the  officers 
rode  a  little  way  on  the  Fort  Wayne  trail  with 
Captain  Wells,  who  was  charged  with  many  let 
ters  and  messages  for  friends  there,  and  Beatrice 
watched  the  start  from  the  window  of  the  living- 
room. 

''Who's  that,  Aunt  Eleanor,  riding  beside 
Uncle  John?" 

"Captain  Franklin,  in  command  of  the  Fort." 

"And  who's  the  mean-looking  one,  twisting  his 
mustache  ? ' ' 

"Lieutenant  Howard,  dear — Katherine's  hus 
band." 

"Oh!"  said  Beatrice,  quickly.  "Aren't  they 
happy  together?" 

There  was  a  long  silence.  "Not  very  happy, 
I'm  afraid,"  sighed  Mrs.  Mackenzie. 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  the  girl,  with  genuine  sym 
pathy.  * '  Do  you  think  I  could  help  in  any  way  ? ' ' 

"I  don't  know,  Bee — I  wish  you  could.  You 
will  be  company  for  Katherine,  and  perhaps  you 
can  make  it  easier  for  her,  in  some  ways,  if  you 
try." 

"  Poor  Cousin  Kit !  Of  course  I  '11  try !  Look, 
Aunty,"  she  said,  abruptly  pointing  to  a  belated 


Cousins  95 

rider  who  was  galloping  to  overtake  the  others. 
He  had  his  cap  in  his  hand,  and  his  yellow  hair 
was  blowing  in  the  wind.  ''That's  the  big  boy 
I  scared.  Is  he  married?" 

"No,"  replied  Mrs.  Mackenzie.  Her  lips  did 
not  move,  but  her  eyes  smiled. 

"He's  handsome,"  said  Beatrice,  dispassion 
ately.  "  I've  lived  at  all  the  posts — Fort  Wayne, 
Detroit,  and  Fort  Mackinac,  and  he's  the  best- 
looking  soldier  I've  seen.  I'd  like  to  paint  his 
picture,  if  he'd  let  me." 

"I'll  ask  him,  dear;  I  think  he'll  let  you." 

"Aunt  Eleanor!"  cried  Beatrice,  reproachfully. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Oh — because.  Where  are  those  soldiers  going, 
Aunty?" 

Mrs.  Mackenzie  looked  out  of  the  window  and 
saw  half  a  dozen  men  in  the  boat  belonging  to 
the  Fort,  headed  up-stream. 

"They're  going  fishing,  I  guess.  I'll  have  to 
go  away  a  little  while  this  afternoon,  Bee.  Mrs. 
Burns  is  sick  and  she  needs  me — you  won't  mind, 
will  you?  I'll  leave  the  table  all  set,  and  I'll 
surely  be  back  before  dark.  Are  you  afraid  to  be 
left  alone?" 

"No.  I'm  not  afraid  of  anything;  but  where 
is  Cousin  Rob  ? ' ' 


96  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"  He's  teaching  the  children.  They  don't  seem 
to  get  much  time,  someway,  in  the  morning,  so 
they  begin  right  after  dinner  and  study  till  supper 
time.  I'm  so  glad  to  have  Robert  here — he's 
doing  wonders  with  them." 

"He  seems  nice,"  said  Beatrice,  "and  I  like 
him.  Can't  I  go  with  you,  Aunt  Eleanor?" 

"No,  dear — somebody  has  to  stay  with  the 
baby.  He's  asleep,  though,  and  I  don't  think 
he'll  trouble  you." 

"  I'll  take  care  of  him,  Aunty.  Don't  fret  about 
us." 

Nevertheless,  the  house  seemed  very  lonely  to 
Beatrice  after  Mrs.  Mackenzie  went  away,  and 
she  roamed  about  restlessly.  For  a  time  she 
amused  herself  by  examining  the  articles  on  the 
depleted  shelves  behind  the  counters,  but  the  in 
terest  soon  vanished.  She  could  find  nothing  to 
read  except  a  soiled  and  ragged  copy  of  a  paper 
three  months  old,  which  she  had  already  seen  at 
Fort  Wayne.  The  murmer  of  voices  from  a  dis 
tant  room  reached  her  ears  with  sudden  and  at 
tractive  significance,  and  her  face  brightened. 

"I  don't  know  as  I  should  do  it,"  she  said  to 
herself,  but  she  went  to  the  door  and  tapped 
softly. 

Robert   opened  it,   in   surprise,   and   Beatrice 


Cousins  97 

stepped  into  the  room.  "I've  come  to  visit  the 
school,"  she  said. 

' '  Goody ! ' '  cried  Johnny. 

She  seated  herself  on  the  window  ledge  and 
smiled  radiantly  at  the  embarrassed  teacher. 
Discipline  had  been  difficult  from  the  beginning, 
and  the  guest  made  matters  worse. 

"Now,  then,  Johnny,"  Forsyth  said,  "what 
were  we  studying  ? ' ' 

"Eight  times  three." 

"Yes,  and  how  many  are  eight  times  three?" 

"Twenty " 

"Twenty-one,"  said  Beatrice. 

"Twenty-one,"  repeated  Johnny,  readily,  with 
the  air  of  one  who  has  accomplished  a  difficult 
feat. 

Robert  frowned  and  bit  his  lips.  "  Eight  times 
three  are  twenty-four,  Johnny.  Write  it  ten 
times  on  your  slate — that  will  help  you  to  remem 
ber." 

"What  a  gift  for  teaching,"  murmured  Bea 
trice.  Robert  flushed,  but  did  not  speak,  and 
there  was  no  sound  in  the  room  but  the  pencil 
scratching  on  the  slate. 

"Cousin  Rob?" 

"  Yes,  Johnny.     What  is  it?" 

"Why,  Cousin  Bee  just  said  eight  times  three 

7 


98  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

were  twenty-one.  Did  she  tell  a  lie,  or  did  n't 
she  know  ? ' ' 

"Never  mind,  Johnny;  just  attend  to  your 
lesson." 

"  Mamma  says  it's  wicked  to  tell  lies,"  observed 
Ellen,  virtuously,  sucking  her  slate  pencil. 

Beatrice  was  enjoying  herself  hugely.  She 
flashed  a  wicked  glance  at  Forsyth  as  she  said, 
"I'm  so  glad  I  came!" 

''Go  on  with  your  work,  Ellen.  I  want  you  to 
write  that  sentence  five  times  without  a  mistake. 
Maria  Indiana,  bring  me  your  primer.  Begin 
here." 

"Tan't.     Baby'sfordot." 

"Oh,  no,  you  haven't.  We  learned  this  yes 
terday,  don't  you  remember?  Now,  then, — 'I 
see/ — what's  the  rest  of  it?" 

"I  see  a  tat." 

"Where?"  asked  Beatrice,  lightly,  and  Maria 
Indiana  gazed  at  her,  sadly  bewildered. 

"  Where  is  the  cat  ? ' '  she  asked  again.  "  I  don't 
see  any." 

"Here,  Baby,"  said  Robert;  "look  at  the  pic 
ture." 

"  I  don't  like  a  picture  cat,"  said  Beatrice,  with 
a  tempting  smile,  as  she  held  out  her  arms  to  the 
child. 


Cousins  99 

"  Tuzzin  Bee ! "  crowed  the  baby,  running  to  her, 
"me  loves  oo!" 

"  I' ve  got  this  done  now, ' '  said  Johnny.  ' '  Eight 
times  three  are  twenty-four." 

"  That's  a  mistake,"  put  in  Beatrice.  "  Did  n't 
I  tell  you  it  was  twenty-one?" 

"Cousin  Rob,"  asked  Ellen,  in  deep  trouble,  "if 
Cousin  Bee  has  told  a  lie,  will  she  go  to  hell?" 

"No,"  sobbed  the  baby;  "me  doesn't  want 
Tuzzin  Bee  to  go  to  hell!" 

Robert's  face  was  pale,  and  there  was  a  danger 
ous  look  in  the  set  lines  of  his  mouth.  He  went  to 
Beatrice,  took  her  by  the  shoulders,  and  gently, 
but  firmly,  put  her  out  of  the  room,  then  locked 
the  door. 

"Well,  I  never!"  she  said  to  herself. 

Beatrice  was  not  given  to  self -analysis,  but  she 
could  not  keep  from  wondering  why  she  felt  so 
queer.  She  knew  she  had  no  right  to  be  angry, 
and  yet  she  was  furious.  She  was  certain  that 
she  would  have  done  the  same  thing  if  she  had 
been  in  his  place,  and  much  earlier  at  that; 
but  the  fact  did  not  lessen  the  enormity  of  his 
crime. 

"He  dared  to  touch  me!"  she  whispered,  with 
her  face  hidden. 

The  long  afternoon  faded  into  dusk,  and  then 


ioo          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Mackenzie  came  home.  "Where's  mother?"  he 
asked. 

"  She  went  to  see  Mrs.  Burns.  She  said  she  was 
sick." 

"Have  you  been  lonesome,  Bee?" 

The  girl  bit  her  lips.  "Not  very,"  she  an 
swered  grimly. 

School  was  dismissed  and  the  children  trooped 
into  the  living-room.  Robert  spoke  pleasantly  to 
his  uncle,  but  took  no  notice  of  Beatrice. 

"  Uncle  John,"  she  said  at  length,  "  what  do  you 
think  of  a  person  who  takes  a  lady  by  the  shoul 
ders  and  puts  her  out  of  a  room?" 

"  If  you  had  been  a  lady,"  retorted  Robert,  "  I 
would  n't  have  put  you  out." 

"  Don't  quarrel,"  said  Mackenzie.  "  Life  is  too 
short  to  fuss."  He  took  Chan's  violin  from  the 
chimney-shelf  in  the  next  room,  and  began  to  play 
a  lively  tune.  Ellen  and  Johnny  pranced  around 
the  tea-table,  and  Maria  Indiana,  with  faltering 
steps,  endeavoured  to  imitate  them. 

Beatrice  laughed,  and  Robert's  heart  softened, 
though  he  had  been  very  angry  with  her  only  a 
little  while  before.  He  was  about  to  beg  her 
pardon  for  his  seeming  harshness,  when  the 
door  burst  open  and  Mrs.  Mackenzie  rushed  in, 
breathless  and  white  with  fear. 


The  Cousins 


101 


1 '  The  Indians ! "  she  cried.     ' '  The  Indians ! ' ' 
"Where?"  shouted  Mackenzie,  springing  to  his 
feet. 

" Up  at  Lee's!     Killing  and  scalping!'' 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    ALARM 

WITH  rare  presence  of  mind,  Beatrice  blew 
out  the  candles,  and  they  made  their 
way  to  the  river  in  the  darkness.  The  mist  was 
rising  from  the  bare  earth  and  the  air  was  heavy 
with  dew.  There  was  no  outward  sign  of  danger ; 
but  the  grey  shadows  were  portentous  of  evil,  and 
in  the  very  stillness  was  a  nameless  fear. 

Mrs.  Mackenzie  had  the  baby  in  her  arms. 
" Smother  him  if  he  cries,"  said  the  trader,  in  a 
low  tone,  but,  fortunately,  the  child  kept  quiet. 
Maria  Indiana  began  to  wail  and  her  father  shook 
her  roughly.  "Keep  still!"  he  whispered  warn- 
ingly. 

Beatrice  took  charge  of  the  other  children,  who 
did  as  they  were  told  without  a  murmur  of  com 
plaint.  The  bateau  lay  at  its  moorings  and  they 
got  into  it  with  as  little  noise  as  possible.  Mac 
kenzie  and  Robert  were  at  the  oars. 


The  Alarm  103 

The  stream  was  narrow,  yet  the  minutes  passed 
like  hours,  and  the  sound  of  the  oars  seemed  car 
ried  far  into  the  night.  "Careful,  now,"  whis 
pered  Mackenzie.  Robert  took  the  little  girl  in  his 
arms  and  they  ran  up  the  esplanade  to  the  Fort. 

Dim  shapes  of  horror  seemed  hovering  around 
them  as  they  strained  their  ears  to  catch  the  sav 
age  cry  which  had  blazed  the  red  trail  of  torture 
from  Jamestown  to  the  Lakes.  Soldiers  ran  to 
meet  them,  picked  up  the  two  older  children,  and 
hurried  with  them  into  the  Fort.  As  they  en 
tered  the  stockade,  the  heavy  gate  crashed  into 
place. 

"Thank  God,"  breathed  Mackenzie,  "we  are 
safe!" 

On  the  parade-ground  was  a  scene  of  confusion. 
Men  ran  to  and  fro,  carrying  ammunition  and 
pails  of  water  to  the  blockhouses  and  points 
marked  on  the  stockade.  Pine  knots,  thrust  be 
tween  the  bars,  blazed  fitfully,  throwing  a  lurid 
light  here  and  there  and  making  the  darkness 
deeper  by  contrast. 

From  the  windows  and  open  doors  of  the  offi 
cers'  quarters  came  stray  gleams  of  light.  White- 
faced  men  and  women  ran  in  and  out  of  the 
shadows,  hoarse  cries  of  command  were  heard, 
and  it  seemed  like  some  vivid  dream. 


104          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Beatrice  ran  to  the  stables,  and  Queen  whinnied 
when  she  felt  the  girl's  soft  hand  upon  her.  "  Hush, 
she  said,  "we  came  together,  Beauty,  and  we'll 
stay  together — while  we're  here,"  she  added,  with 
a  little  choke  in  her  voice. 

Over  by  the  barracks  a  man  and  a  boy  were 
talking  to  Captain  Franklin,  while  a  little  group 
of  people  listened.  Beatrice,  with  Queen's  halter 
in  her  hand,  went  near  enough  to  hear. 

"I  knew  something  was  wrong,"  the  man  was 
saying.  "  A  dozen  of  'em  came  in  all  painted  up, 
but  Frenchy  and  White  seemed  to  think  it  was 
all  right  and  went  on  talking  to  them.  I  says  to 
the  kid  here,  'They  ain't  Pottawattomies,  and 
we'd  better  get  away  if  we  can.  Do  as  you  see 
me  do.' 

"So  we  went  out  to  the  canoes,  and  two  of  the 
red  devils  followed  us  to  ask  where  we  were  going. 
I  told  'em  we  were  going  over  to  feed  the  cattle 
and  we'd  be  back  soon  to  get  supper.  When  we 
got  across  we  pulled  some  hay  and  pretended  to 
get  the  cattle  together,  but  as  soon  as  we  got 
behind  a  stack,  we  ran  for  the  Fort.  Two  shots 
were  fired  after  we  left,  and  God  only  knows  what 
they're  doing  up  there  now.  There  must  be 
thousands  of  them  in  the  woods." 

"Where's  Chan?"  asked  Mrs.  Mackenzie. 


The  Alarm  105 

"Have  n't  seen  him  since  noon,"  replied  her 
husband.  "He  '11  have  to  look  out  for  him 
self." 

"Where  are  the  soldiers  who  went  fishing?" 
asked  Beatrice. 

"  They  have  n't  come  back,"  answered  the  Cap 
tain;  "but  they're  armed." 

"That  won't  do  any  good,"  said  Lieutenant 
Howard.  Two  of  the  soldiers  standing  by  ran  to 
the  blockhouses  without  waiting  for  an  order. 
The  deep-throated  guns  thundered  a  warning,  and 
confused  echoes  came  back,  but  there  was  no 
other  answer. 

Preparations  for  fight  went  on.  The  men  in 
the  blockhouses  were  ordered  to  stay  there,  and 
others  were  assigned  to  the  same  posts.  Still 
others  were  stationed  at  the  magazine  and  at  regu 
lar  intervals  along  the  stockade.  The  gates  were 
heavily  guarded,  and  Captain  Franklin  ordered 
the  women  and  children  to  the  officers'  quarters, 
but  only  Mrs.  Mackenzie  obeyed. 

"I'll  stay  here,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  in  open 
defiance. 

"Wait  till  we  are  attacked,"  cried  Katherine. 

"Queen  and  I  will  stay  together,"  said  Bea 
trice,  proudly. 

Ronald  was  rapidly  loading  the  army  pistols  and 


io6          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

distributing  them  among  the  women.  Beatrice 
was  standing  with  her  arm  thrown  over  the  mare's 
neck  when  he  came  to  her,  and  the  fitful  light  of 
the  pine  knots  shone  full  upon  her  face  and  her 
glorious  hair.  Her  eyes  were  bright  and  she 
breathed  rapidly,  but  no  one  could  have  said  she 
was  afraid. 

For  a  moment  they  stood  there,  looking  into 
each  other's  eyes.  "When  the  first  Indian  leaps 
the  stockade,  put  it  to  your  temple  and  fire," 
said  Ronald,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

Beatrice  took  the  heavy  pistol  from  him  with  a 
steady  hand.  "Give  me  another  cartridge,"  she 
said. 

"What  for?" 

"For  Queen.  I  won't  have  her  hurt,  and  she 
goes  first." 

The  Ensign  obeyed,  with  another  long  look  at 
the  girl .  '  *  You '  re  a  thoroughbred , "  he  said .  For 
a  breathless  instant  they  faced  each  other,  then 
Ronald  clicked  his  heels  together,  saluted,  and 
turned  away. 

Something  stirred  painfully  in  the  girl's  heart. 
As  in  a  dream,  she  saw  Mrs.  Mackenzie  and  the 
children  going  into  Lieutenant  Howard's,  watched 
Forsyth  and  the  trader  as  they  loaded  their  mus 
kets,  and  heard  Katherine's  terrible  laugh  when 


The  Alarm  107 

she  put  the  cold  muzzle  of  the  pistol  to  her  temple 
to  see  how  it  would  feel. 

Then  Franklin  and  Ronald  passed  her.  "I 
won't  give  an  order,"  the  Captain  was  saying; 
"it's  a  job  for  volunteers." 

"May  I  have  them?"  asked  the  Ensign. 

"  Yes — six.     We  can  spare  no  more." 

A  moment  later  a  clear  voice  sounded  above  the 
clamour,  * '  Attention ! ' ' 

There  was  the  rush  of  hurrying  feet,  an  in 
stant's  wondering  silence,  then  Ronald  spoke. 
"Boys,"  he  said,  "Mrs.  Burns  has  a  baby  a  day 
old,  and  there  is  no  one  with  her  but  her  husband. 
I'm  going  after  them — who's  going  with  me?" 

The  soldiers,  to  a  man,  rallied  around  him. 
"  I ! "  came  from  every  throat.  "I'm  going ! ' ' 

"Six  only,"  he  said.  He  quickly  selected  his 
men,  they  snatched  up  their  guns,  and,  with  a 
warning  "hush!"  from  him,  they  went  to  the 
bateau  in  which  the  Mackenzies  had  crossed. 

"Steady!"  came  Ronald's  low  voice,  then  the 
oars  murmured  in  the  water  and  the  heavy  gate 
rumbled  into  place  once  more. 

Forsyth,  stunned  by  the  whirl  of  events,  was 
leaning  on  his  musket,  staring  vacantly  into  space. 
Across  the  parade-ground  his  face  appeared  to 
Beatrice  in  the  last  flicker  of  a  burnt-out  knot. 


io8          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

All  her  pent-up  anger  returned  to  her,  and,  still 
smarting  under  the  memory  of  his  affront,  she  left 
her  horse  and  went  over  to  him. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  go  with  him  ? ' '  she  demanded. 

"Who— where?" 

" Ensign  Ronald!" 

"I — I  don't  know,"  he  stammered. 

He  had  told  the  unvarnished  truth,  but  she  in 
terpreted  it  in  her  own  way.  "I'll  tell  you  why 
you  did  n't  go,"  she  said,  with  measured  distinct 
ness.  Then  her  eyes  flashed  and  her  breast 
heaved. 

"Coward!"  she  blazed. 

Robert  started  as  if  he  had  been  struck,  but 
before  he  could  speak,  she  had  left  him  and  gone 
back  to  Queen. 

Her  lip  curled  as  she  saw  him  standing  there, 
leaning  on  his  musket,  with  his  head  bowed.  His 
habit  of  self -analysis  asserted  itself,  and  he  began 
to  wonder  whether  she  had  been  right.  The 
blood  that  had  left  his  heart  came  back  in  tides  of 
pain,  and  the  word  burned  itself  upon  his  con 
sciousness.  "Coward,"  he  said  to  himself,  "cow 
ard!  She  called  me  a  coward !" 

Yet  he  knew  that  what  she  had  said  did  not 
matter  so  much  as  the  possibility  that  she  had 
spoken  truly — that  his  self-respect  meant  more 


The  Alarm  109 

than  any  woman's  praise  or  blame.  His  reason 
told  him  that;  but  her  scornful,  accusing  face 
flitted  before  him  and  he  had  an  impulse  to  get 
away — it  did  not  matter  where.  Still  dazed,  he 
went  to  the  blockhouse  at  the  north-west  corner 
of  the  stockade  and  joined  the  men  there. 

On  the  parade-ground  Doctor  Norton  was  mak 
ing  grewsome  preparations.  A  stretcher  was 
placed  near  each  blockhouse,  and  others  at  regu 
lar  intervals.  Bottles  were  ranged  in  rows  upon 
the  ground,  and  piles  of  bandages  showed  whitely 
under  the  flare  of  the  torches. 

He  looked  up,  to  find  Katherine  at  his  side. 
"  Let  me  help  you,"  she  said. 

"  No;  there's  nothing  you  can  do  just  now,  but 
I'm  afraid  we'll  have  our  hands  full  later  if — 
Go  and  scrape  some  lint,"  he  broke  off  abruptly, 
"  and  make  some  coffee.  Get  the  other  women  to 
help  you." 

Here  the  Lieutenant  passed  them,  without 
seeming  to  see  them,  and  she  followed  him  with  a 
guilty  feeling  in  her  heart. 

When  she  entered  her  own  house,  she  found  her 
mother  there,  scraping  lint  and  making  bandages, 
while  a  pot  of  strong  coffee  was  already  steaming 
on  the  hearth  and  piles  of  cut  bread  were  stacked 
upon  the  table. 


no          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

''This  is  all  we  can  do,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Mac 
kenzie. 

"  Let  me  help  you,  mother — I  '11  get  some  more 
old  linen." 

Mrs.  Franklin  came  in  with  her  arms  full  of 
white  cloth,  which  she  tore  into  strips  and  wound 
tightly,  ready  for  immediate  use.  They  worked 
by  the  light  of  a  single  candle,  and  the  three  loaded 
pistols  lay  on  the  table  in  front  of  them. 

"If  we  sleep  to-night,"  said  the  Captain's  wife 
at  length,  without  pausing  in  her  task,  "I'll  take 
Miss  Manning  and  Mrs.  Burns,  when  the  boys 
come  back." 

"Mother  and  the  children  can  stay  here,"  said 
Katherine;  "but  I  have  n't  room  for  any  more." 

"That's  all  right,"  answered  Mrs.  Mackenzie. 
"The  men  can  go  to  the  barracks." 

More  than  an  hour  passed,  but  nothing  was 
heard  from  the  rescue  party,  and  the  fear  of  dan 
ger  deepened.  The  Lieutenant  came  in,  endeav 
ouring  to  conceal  his  nervousness. 

"That's  good,"  he  said,  indicating  the  piles  of 
lint  and  bandages.  Then  he  drank  a  cup  of 
strong,  black  coffee,  and  paced  back  and  forth 
uneasily. 

"Where  are  the  boys?"  asked  Katherine. 
" Is  n't  it  time  for  them  to  come  back?" 


The  Alarm  1 1 1 

"No,  I  don't  think  so;  we  could  hardly  expect 
them  yet." 

" Could  n't  some  of  the  others  go  after  them?" 

"Heavens,  no!  We  haven't  fifty  men  here, 
and  we  need  every  one.  Chan  is  missing,  seven 
have  gone  after  Mrs.  Burns,  and  six  are  on  a  fish 
ing  trip — that's  fourteen  out  of  our  small  force. 
In  their  place  we  have  Father  John,  Forsyth,  and 
the  man  and  boy  from  Lee's.  The  Indians  are 
probably  gathering  in  the  woods  and  making 
ready  to  attack  us.  God!"  he  said,  under  his 
breath,  "why  can't  we  have  troops!" 

Katherine  warned  him  with  a  glance  which 
almost  imperceptibly  indicated  Mrs.  Franklin, 
who  was  hard  at  work,  seemingly  absorbed  in  her 
task.  "Where's  Wallace?"  she  asked,  without 
looking  up. 

"Walking  around  the  parade-ground.  He's 
safe,"  he  added  bitterly;  "don't  worry  about 
him." 

Mrs.  Mackenzie  and  Katherine  both  frowned 
at  the  emphasis  on  the  last  word.  "  Don't  worry 
about  me,  either,"  he  continued;  "I'm  going 
now." 

Katherine  went  to  the  door  with  him.  "  Can  I 
do  anything  more,  dear?"  she  asked. 

"No,"  he  said  roughly,  "unless  you  want  to 


1 1 2          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

mind  your  own  business  for  a  while!"  He 
laughed  harshly,  pushed  her  from  him,  and  went 
out. 

"Ralph  isn't  well,"  she  sighed,  going  back  to 
the  table;  "and  I'm  afraid  something  has  hap 
pened  outside,  too.  I  wonder  where  the  boys 
are?" 

The  whole  garrison  was  asking  the  same  ques 
tion  secretly;  but  no  man  would  openly  admit 
that  there  was  ground  for  anxiety.  Beatrice  had 
tied  Queen  to  the  flag-pole,  and  was  besieging  the 
Doctor  with  inquiries. 

"Tell  me,"  she  pleaded,  for  the  third  time, 
' '  have  n't  they  been  gone  long  enough  to  get 
back?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered  finally;  "they  have. 
They  should  have  been  here  long  ago." 

' '  I  knew  it ! "  she  exclaimed.  "I'm  going  to  the 
blockhouse  to  see  if  they  are  n't  coming!" 

She  called  to  those  above  her,  but  no  one  heard, 
so  she  went  up  the  ladder.  "Where  are  they?" 
she  cried,  bursting  in  upon  the  startled  group. 

Even  as  she  spoke  there  was  a  faint  "halloo" 
from  the  west.  "They're  coming,"  shouted 
Robert,  but  his  voice  was  lost,  for  the  sentinel  at 
the  gate  had  heard  also. 

The  parade-ground  filled  with  people,  and  Bea- 


The  Alarm  113 

trice  had  turned  to  descend  the  ladder,  when 
Robert  caught  her  by  the  arm. 

"Beatrice!"  he  gasped.  "Let  me  know  the 
worst — do  you  despise  me?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  coolly.  "  Please  let  go  of 
me,  and  never  dare  to  touch  me  again." 

The  gate  was  lifted  and  seven  men  came  in, 
carrying  the  mattress  on  which  lay  Mrs.  Burns 
and  her  baby.  Mrs.  Franklin  led  the  way  to  her 
hospitable  door,  where  Mrs.  Mackenzie  and  Kath- 
erine  were  already  waiting  to  do  what  they  could 
in  the  way  of  making  the  mother  and  child 
comfortable. 

It  was  Mrs.  Mackenzie  who  first  noticed  that 
Ronald  was  not  with  them.  ' '  Where 's  George  ? ' ' 
she  asked,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  He's  gone  up  the  river,  ma'am,"  answered  one 
of  the  soldiers.  "We  begged  him  not  to,  but  he 
would  go,  and  he  would  n't  let  a  one  of  us  go  with 
him.  He  thought  he  heard  a  noise,  so  he  went  up 
stream  to  see  what  it  was." 

Mr.  Burns  had  seen  no  Indians,  but,  like  the 
others,  thought  they  were  gathering  in  the  woods. 
He  was  far  away  from  the  house  at  the  time  the 
man  had  shouted  the  warning ;  but  he  had  heard 
the  two  shots  at  Lee's  and  the  guns  from  the  Fort. 

"Captain,"  said  Lieutenant  Howard,  "I'll  be 


ii4          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

one  of  a  party  to  go  and  find  Ronald.  He 's  prob 
ably  up  at  Lee's." 

"You  won't,"  growled  the  Captain,  biting  his 
mustache.  "  Just  because  the  young  fool  chooses 
to  risk  his  life  for  nothing,  I  won't  expose  five  or 
six  men  to  danger.  We  have  none  to  spare." 

"How  did  he  go?"  asked  the  Doctor  of  Mr. 
Burns. 

"He  took  my  boat.  He'll  pull  back  down 
stream  quick  enough  if  anything  is  wrong." 

"No  he  won't,"  returned  the  Doctor,  warmly; 
"you  don't  know  the  lad." 

Robert  walked  back  and  forth  on  the  parade- 
ground,  sorely  troubled  on  his  own  account,  and 
deeply  concerned  for  the  safety  of  his  friend. 
Mackenzie  shared  his  anxiety,  but  quickly  vetoed 
the  suggestion  that  they  two  follow  him. 

"  T  ain't  no  manner  of  use,  Rob,"  he  said,  kindly. 
"We're  under  military  orders,  and  you  heard 
what  the  Captain  said.  Besides,  that  dare-devil 
boy  ain't  afraid  of  anything,  and  I  guess  he'll 
come  out  with  a  whole  skin — he  always  has." 

"Were  you  thinking  of  going  after  him,  Cousin 
Rob?"  asked  Beatrice,  sweetly. 

He  started  at  the  sound  of  her  voice,  then  looked 
full  in  her  face  with  no  sign  of  recognition.  Bea 
trice  met  his  eyes  squarely  until  he  turned  on  his 


The  Alarm  115 

heel  and  walked  away,  followed  by  a  peal  of 
light,  mocking  laughter  that  cut  into  his  heart 
like  a  knife. 

"What's  the  matter  between  you  and  Rob?" 
asked  the  trader,  curiously. 

"Nothing,"  answered  the  girl,  shrugging  her 
shoulders;  "but  I  was  amused  a  little  while  ago 
because  he  was  so  frightened — he  was  scared 
almost  to  death." 

Mackenzie's  eyes  glittered  as  he  peered  at  her 
keenly  from  under  his  bushy  brows.  "  Don't  say 
that  again,  my  girl,"  he  said,  huskily,  "for  fear 
does  n't  run  in  the  Forsyth  blood.  His  grand 
father  was  killed  at  Lexington." 

"A  boat  is  coming,"  shouted  a  man  from  the 
blockhouse.  Shortly  afterward,  the  fishing  party 
came  in,  tired  but  triumphant,  with  a  long  string 
of  river  fish.  They  had  seen  no  Indians,  and  had 
not  met  Ronald. 

"  Did  you  hear  the  gun?"  asked  the  Captain. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  one  of  the  soldiers.  "We 
were  up  on  the  North  Branch  and  thought  it  was 
a  warning,  so  we  laid  low  for  a  while.  Then,  as 
we  did  n't  hear  anything  more,  we  came  on  down 
as  quietly  as  we  could." 

"  Everything  all  right  at  Lee's?"  asked  Lieuten 
ant  Howard. 


1 1 6          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"As  far  as  we  saw,  sir." 

Still  there  was  uneasiness  regarding  the  Ensign. 
Katherine  was  pale,  Mrs.  Franklin  was  crying,  and 
Beatrice  had  her  small  hands  clenched  tightly  to 
gether.  Suddenly  they  all  knew  how  much  they 
should  miss  him  if 

Then  there  was  a  familiar  whistle  outside,  the 
sentinel  opened  the  gate,  and  Ronald  came  in 
with  a  big  black  and  white  dog  in  his  arms. 

"I  thought  I  heard  him  howling,"  he  said,  in 
answer  to  the  torrent  of  questions,  "  so  I  went  on 
up  to  Lee's  to  get  him.  The  devils  have  been 
there  all  right, — the  guns  must  have  frightened 
them  away. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued  in  a  low  tone,  in  answer  to 
a  whispered  question  from  Howard;  "  White  and 
Frenchy.  White  was  shot  and  stabbed  in  the 
breast  and  poor  Frenchy  was  scalped — the  whole 
top  of  his  head  lifted  off.  The  dog  was  guarding 
the  body." 

"What's  that?"  asked  Mrs.  Franklin,  from  the 
edge  of  the  group  where  all  the  women  were  stand 
ing  together.  "  Speak  louder — we  can't  hear." 

The  deep-toned  bell  tolled  taps,  and  there  was 
a  general  movement  toward  quarters.  "I  was 
just  talking  about  the  dog,"  shouted  Ronald  to 
the  women. 


The  Alarm  1 1 7 

"  He  fought  me  at  first,"  he  continued,  address 
ing  the  Lieutenant  and  the  Doctor;  "but  I  soon 
won  his  heart.  Poor  old  boy,"  he  said,  stroking 
the  dog,  "  he  did  n't  want  to  be  made  into  a  stew, 
did  he?" 

"We  must  go  up  to-morrow,"  said  the  Lieu 
tenant. 

"What  are  you  going  to  call  him?"  asked  the 
Doctor. 

"  Major,  I  guess — we  have  n't  a  major  here." 

Lieutenant  Howard's  white  teeth  showed  in  a 
sarcastic  smile.     ' '  You  might  call  him  '  Captain, ' ' 
he  said,  twisting  his  mustache,  "for  the  same 
good  reason." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THOROUGHBREDS 

THE  guard  was  doubled  that  night  and  the 
small  force  was  ready  for  instant  action. 
Sentinels  patrolled  the  river  bank  and  stood 
at  the  gates ;  while  in  the  blockhouses  the  can 
non  were  trained  through  the  port-holes,  and 
men  kept  vigilant  watch. 

At  three  o'clock  the  terrified  bleating  of  the 
sheep  aroused  every  one  but  the  children.  A  sent 
inel  fired  his  musket  and  retreated  to  the  Fort, 
then  a  heavy  gun  rumbled  ominously. 

Once  again  the  parade-ground  filled  with  people. 
' '  What  is  it  ?  What  is  it  ? "  they  cried. 

"  Indians,"  Captain  Franklin  explained.  "They 
went  after  the  horses,  but  did  n't  find  them,  so 
they  stabbed  the  sheep  and  turned  them  loose. 
The  sentry  saw  some  of  them  in  the  pasture,  and 
fired,  then  ran  to  the  Fort.  A  tomahawk  just 
missed  him — it  grazed  his  head  and  struck  a 

118 


Thoroughbreds  1 1 9 

waggon  wheel.    The  cannon  must  have  frightened 
them  away." 

So  it  proved,  for  the  next  morning  a  trail  of 
blood  led  from  the  pasture  toward  the  woods. 
The  sheep  lay  dead  on  the  plains  around  the 
Fort,  but  search  parties  found  nothing,  though 
they  scoured  the  woods  thoroughly  for  miles 
around. 

Chandonnais  appeared  at  the  usual  time  for 
work,  but  refused  to  say  where  he  had  been. 
When  he  was  asked  unpleasant  questions,  he 
always  pretended  that  he  did  not  understand,  and 
from  this  position  neither  man  nor  woman  could 
swerve  him  a  hair's  breadth. 

Lieutenant  Howard,  with  four  men,  went  up  the 
river  to  Lee's  and  buried  the  two  victims  of  the 
night  before.  "It  wasn't  good  to  look  at,"  he 
said  to  Ronald,  when  he  returned. 

"  I  know,"  answered  the  Ensign ;  "I  found  out 
that  much  last  night.  I  did  n't  dare  strike  a 

light,  but  I  felt "     He  turned  his  face  away 

and  swallowed  hard.     "Don't  tell  the  women," 
he  concluded. 

"I  won't,"  said  Howard,  "and  I've  made  the 
boys  promise  not  to  talk.  There's  no  use  of 
making  things  worse  than  they  are." 

Major  sat  at  Ronald's  feet,   listening  intelli- 


120          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

gently,  and  thumping  the  ground  vigorously  with 
his  bushy  tail.  "Poor  old  boy,"  said  his  new 
master,  affectionately ;  "  it  was  pretty  bad,  was  n't 
it?  He's  a  nice  dog,  is  n't  he,  Howard?" 

"  Washing  would  help  him." 

"He's  going  to  have  his  Spring  bath  the  first 
warm  day.  How  do  you  suppose  dogs  know 
whom  they  belong  to?  Major  knows  he's  mine, 
and  nobody  could  get  him  away  from  me." 

Beatrice  came  out  of  Captain  Franklin's  and 
took  a  careful  survey  of  the  Fort.  It  was  a  gloomy 
place  at  best,  but  the  disorder  of  the  night  made 
it  worse. 

"Good-morning,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  as  he 
passed  her  on  his  way  home. 

"Good-morning,"  returned  the  girl,  including 
Ronald  in  the  salutation.  Then  she  whistled  to 
the  dog,  but  he  paid  no  attention  to  the  call  other 
than  to  lean  heavily  against  his  master. 

"He's  mine,"  laughed  Ronald,  meeting  her, 
"and  you  can't  have  him.  How  do  you  like  liv 
ing  in  the  Fort?" 

"I  don't  like  it,"  she  answered  disdainfully. 
"It's  about  as  cheerful  as  a  tomb.  I'm  glad 
we're  going  home." 

Ronald  lifted  his  brows  inquiringly.  "  Who  's 
going  home  ? ' ' 


Thoroughbreds  121 

"Why,  all  of  us — Uncle  John,  Aunt  Eleanor, 
the  children,  and — and  Cousin  Rob." 

"Oh,  no,  you're  not!  You're  going  to  stay 
here." 

"Who  said  so?" 

"I  say  so,"  replied  George,  mischievously. 

"Can't  I  go  out  of  the  Fort?" 

"No." 

"We'll  see,"  said  Beatrice,  tossing  her  head. 

She  ran  to  the  gate,  but  he  was  there  before  her 
and  effectually  barred  the  way. 

"  Let  me  pass,"  she  said  icily. 

"I'm  sorry,  Miss  Manning,  but  you  can't  go 
without  permission  from  the  Captain.  You  are 
under  military  orders,  and  no  soldier  or  citizen  is 
to  leave  the  Fort  without  a  guard.  After  sunset 
no  one  but  the  sentries  can  pass  the  gates." 

"For  how  long?"  demanded  Beatrice. 

"Till  the  Captain  orders  otherwise." 

"And  I'm  to  stay  here,  then,  without  a  hat,  or 
even  a  clean  handkerchief,  until  His  Majesty  sees 
fit  to  let  me  go  to  my  own  home  in  broad  day 
light!" 

The  colour  flamed  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes 
snapped  dangerously.  The  Ensign  was  enjoying 
the  situation  hugely,  and  thought  Beatrice  was 
the  prettiest  girl  he  had  ever  seen.  In  fact,  he  was 


122          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

on  the  point  of  saying  so,  but,  fortunately,  thought 
better  of  it. 

"You  can  go  if  I  go  with  you,"  he  suggested. 

"  Then  I  '11  stay  here,"  announced  Beatrice,  with 
unconcealed  scorn.  She  walked  away  from  him 
with  her  head  high,  and  went  straight  to  Captain 
Franklin. 

"Gone  to  see  if  I  lied  to  her,"  laughed  Ronald 
to  himself.  "She's  a  mettlesome  damsel — devil 
ish  mettlesome." 

"  That  is  my  order,"  said  the  Captain,  in  answer 
to  her  question,  "and  it  must  be  obeyed." 

"Can't  I  go  home  at  all?" 

"Certainly,  for  a  few  minutes  at  a  time.  Ask 
Ensign  Ronald  to  go  with  you  this  afternoon." 

The  Captain  turned  away,  and  Beatrice  gazed 
at  his  retreating  figure  with  fire  in  her  eyes. 
"Fool!"  she  said  aloud,  stamping  her  foot;  "I 
won't  ask  him.  I  '11  stay  here  till  I  die  before  I  '11 
ask  him!" 

Captain  Franklin's  house  immediately  became 
offensive  to  her,  and  she  knew  Robert  was  at 
Katherine's,  teaching  the  children.  The  parade- 
ground  was  odious,  because  Ronald  was  walking 
briskly  around  it  for  exercise.  Her  uncle  passed 
her  with  the  coolest  kind  of  a  nod,  remembering 
what  she  had  said  about  Robert  the  night  before, 


Thoroughbreds  1 2  3 

and  she  began  to  wish  she  had  never  left  Fort 
Wayne. 

Only  the  stables  remained,  and  she  went  there 
to  see  the  friend  who  never  failed  her.  Queen 
pranced  in  her  stall  and  tapped  with  her  dainty 
hoofs  impatiently. 

"  I  can't  take  you  out,  Beauty,"  she  said  sadly, 
"  because  they  won't  let  us  leave  the  Fort." 

Queen  put  her  nose  into  the  girl's  neck  and  was 
immediately  slapped.  "  You  're  not  allowed  to  do 
that,"  said  Beatrice,  sternly,  turning  away. 
Queen  whinnied  and  Beatrice  understood  that  the 
offender  was  very  sorry  and  very  lonely,  and 
would  never  do  it  again,  so  she  went  back. 

"  I'll  take  you  around  the  Fort  if  you '11  be  good, 
she  said.  Her  saddle  was  hanging  there,  but  she 
preferred  to  ride  without  it,  so  she  replaced  the 
halter  with  a  bridle  and  went  out,  mounted,  hop 
ing  Ronald  was  not  there. 

But  he  was  still  walking  around  the  parade- 
ground,  with  Major  in  his  wake.  Queen  pricked  up 
her  ears  but  went  on,  obediently,  at  the  slow  pace 
which  was  better  than  nothing.  Ronald  smiled 
to  himself  as  Beatrice  crossed  and  turned  so  that 
if  he  kept  on  he  would  appear  to  be  following  her. 

Twice,  three  times  the  procession  went  round 
the  square,  with  the  dog  bringing  up  the  rear, 


1 24          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

before  a  bright  idea  struck  the  Ensign.  By  slow 
degrees  he  slackened  his  pace,  and  as  they  passed 
Lieutenant  Howard's  for  the  fifth  time,  Mrs.  Mac 
kenzie  came  out  on  the  piazza. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Bee?"  she  called;  " can't 
you  catch  him  ? ' ' 

In  half  a  minute  Queen  was  in  her  stall,  much 
surprised,  and  not  a  little  displeased  at  the  sudden 
termination  of  her  exercise.  "You  wretch," 
whispered  Beatrice,  as  she  dismounted;  "what 
ever  possessed  you  to  follow  him?" 

The  coast  was  clear  when  she  left  the  stables, 
but  she  went  to  Mrs.  Howard's  in  a  bad  humour. 
She  was  not  upon  good  terms  with  any  one,  and 
would  have  have  started  back  to  Fort  Wayne  that 
afternoon  if  it  had  been  possible.  She  smiled 
grimly  as  she  realised  that,  by  her  own  act,  she 
had  forever  cut  herself  off  from  her  friends  there. 
"I'll  have  to  fight  it  out  here,"  she  said  to  her 
self;  "I  seem  destined  to  fight." 

Mrs.  Franklin  went  to  Mrs.  Howard's  to  invite 
Beatrice  to  dinner,  and  was  much  disappointed 
when  she  refused.  "Thank  you,"  Beatrice  said, 
trying  hard  to  be  pleasant;  "but  I'll  stay  with 
Aunty  and  Cousin  Kit  this  time.  I  have  n't  a 
doubt  you'll  get  tired  of  me,  though,  before  His 
High  Mightiness  lets  me  go  home." 


Thoroughbreds  125 

She  could  have  bitten  her  tongue  out  for  the 
unlucky  speech,  but,  to  her  relief,  the  Captain's 
wife  misunderstood.  "  I  saw  you  at  the  gate  this 
morning,"  she  laughed,  "  arguing  with  George. 
It's  no  use — he  always  has  his  own  way." 

"What  a  narrow  escape!"  she  exclaimed,  as 
Mrs.  Franklin  went  out.  "Aunt  Eleanor,  this  is 
one  of  my  bad  days." 

"You  must  n't  say  any  day  is  bad,  dear,"  re 
plied  Mrs.  Mackenzie,  "because  each  one  is  what 
we  make  it.  We  begin  afresh  every  morning  with 
the  day  in  our  own  hands.  I'm  sorry  this  has 
happened ;  but  I  'm  very  glad  we  had  the  Fort  to 
come  to,  and  I  am  sure  you  can  find  something 
pleasant  here  if  you  only  look  for  it." 

Nine  people  crowded  around  Mrs.  Howard's 
table  at  dinner  time,  but  Mackenzie  and  Robert 
barely  spoke  to  Beatrice.  The  tribal  instinct  was 
strong  in  the  trader,  and  Robert  was  of  his  blood. 
Katherine  perceived  that  something  was  wrong 
and  did  her  best  to  produce  harmony,  in  which 
she  was  ably  seconded  by  her  husband.  The 
Lieutenant  was  in  a  very  pleasant  frame  of  mind. 

"Cousin  Bee,"  said  Ellen,  "are  you  coming  to 
visit  the  school  this  afternoon?"  Beatrice  was 
talking  with  Katherine  and  did  not  seem  to 
hear. 


i26          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Tuzzin  Bee,"  screamed  Maria  Indiana,  "is  oo 
tummin  ? ' ' 

"No,  dear,"  answered  Beatrice,  quickly. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Mrs.  Mackenzie,  innocently; 
"it  might  amuse  you,  Bee." 

"  I  doubt  it,"  said  the  girl.  "  I'm  going  to  help 
Kit." 

"Cousin  Rob  put  her  out,"  explained  Johnny, 
"because  she  told  a  lie." 

Above  everything  else  on  earth,  Beatrice  hated 
to  wash  dishes,  but  she  plunged  into  the  work 
with  a  will  after  dinner,  as  a  penance,  and  in  spite 
of  Mrs.  Howard's  protests. 

"  It's  so  good  of  you  to  help  me,"  sighed  Kath- 
erine,  as  the  last  dish  was  put  away ;  "for  mother 
is  tired  out,  and  I  have  a  headache.  None  of  us 
slept  much  last  night,  I  fancy." 

"I  know  I  didn't,  but  I  seldom  sleep  in  the 
daytime.  I  wish  you  and  Aunt  Eleanor  would 
go  and  lie  down.  I  can  take  care  of  myself." 

"All  right,"  answered  Katherine,  "if  you  don't 
mind. 

Beatrice  sat  by  the  window  a  little  while  after 
the  house  became  quiet,  then  went  over  to  Mrs. 
Franklin's,  but  there  was  no  response  to  her 
rap.  "Everybody's  asleep,  I  guess,"  she  said  to 
herself. 


Thoroughbreds  127 

She  went  to  the  gate  and  looked  out  longingly 
into  the  bright  Spring  sunshine.  The  sentinel 
passed  her  with  his  musket  over  his  shoulder,  and 
went  on  around  the  Fort.  She  heard  his  meas 
ured  steps  die  away  in  the  distance,  and  won 
dered,  mechanically,  how  long  it  took  him  to 
make  the  round. 

It  seemed  a  long  time  before  she  heard  him 
coming.  A  pirogue  was  tied  to  a  sapling  on  the 
river  bank  and  the  oars  lay  near  it.  Across  the 
stream  the  lonely  house  was  beckoning  to  her  to 
come.  She  slipped  out  of  the  gate  and  leaned  up 
against  the  stockade  outside.  Then  the  sentry 
passed  again. 

"  Against  orders,  Miss,"  he  said. 

"What?"  asked  Beatrice. 

"Standin'  outside." 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  returning  to  the  gate.  "  Can  I 
stand  here?" 

"  Yes'm,  if  you  don't  go  no  further.  Orders  is 
to  stay  inside." 

"All  right."  She  smiled  brilliantly,  then  in 
quired,  in  a  tone  of  polite  interest,  "Are  you  all 
alone  here?" 

"Yes'm.     My  mate's  at  mess." 

" Too  bad.     It's  lonely  for  you,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes'm,  but  I'm  used  to  it." 


128          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

He  went  on,  and  she  watched  him  till  he  turned 
the  first  corner.  A  backward  glance  assured  her 
that  the  parade-ground  was  deserted,  so  she 
edged  out  of  the  gate  again,  and,  under  cover  of 
the  stockade,  ran  to  the  pirogue,  snatched  up  the 
oars,  and  started  across. 

The  blood  beat  hard  in  her  pulses,  but  she  was 
not  afraid,  and  the  rare  delight  of  disobeying 
military  orders  set  her  head  awhirl.  She  ex 
pected  to  see  the  esplanade  fill  with  soldiers, 
shouting  to  her  to  come  back,  but  nothing  hap 
pened.  She  reached  the  other  bank  safely,  tied 
the  pirogue,  and  ran  into  the  house.  From  the 
window  of  the  living-room  she  saw  the  sentry  pass 
once  more.  His  head  was  bowed  and  he  did  not 
notice  that  a  boat  was  gone. 

Then  Ronald  came  out  of  the  Fort  alone  and 
took  another  boat.  She  shrank  back  to  the  far 
thest  corner  of  the  room,  and  her  heart  stood 
still  until  she  saw  him  turn  up-stream.  "  There," 
she  said  to  herself,  "he's  disobeying  orders,  too, 
for  he's  gone  without  a  guard.  If  he  can  do  it, 
there's  no  reason  why  I  should  n't." 

Unconsciously,  Beatrice  had  sustained  a  high 
nervous  strain  for  too  long  a  period.  The  quarrel 
with  her  aunt  and  uncle  at  Fort  Wayne  had  been 
an  affair  of  no  small  moment  at  the  time,  and  the 


Thoroughbreds  129 

preparation  for  the  journey  and  the  long  horse 
back  ride  had  told  upon  her  strength.  The  excite 
ment  of  her  arrival,  new  scenes  and  new  faces, 
and  the  fright  of  the  night  before  had  taxed  her 
still  further,  and  her  trouble  with  Robert  had 
hurt  her  more  deeply  than  she  knew.  She  had 
reached  the  fine  dividing  line  between  a  let-down 
and  a  break. 

The  indescribable  loneliness  of  the  house  was 
depressing.  The  bare  walls  seemed  to  whisper 
back  and  forth,  and  the  table,  still  set  for  supper, 
had  a  ghastly  look  about  it.  The  rooms  were  not 
merely  alone,  but  untenanted.  Cold  ashes  lay 
upon  the  hearths,  the  dust  had  settled  upon  the 
chairs,  and  the  sunlight  outside  only  served  to 
heighten  the  gloom. 

In  the  schoolroom  the  books  were  piled  neatly 
upon  the  table,  and  the  slates  were  clean — ready 
for  the  next  day's  task.  She  experienced  an  un 
wonted  twinge  of  conscience  as  she  entered,  unre- 
buked,  and  remembered  how  exasperating  she  had 
been. 

At  the  Fort  she  had  thought  of  many  things 
she  needed,  but  now  her  errand  seemed  purpose 
less,  and  the  pleasures  of  disobedience  began  to 
pall.  She  went  into  her  room,  gathered  up  some 
of  her  toilet  articles,  and  stood  there,  listlessly, 


130          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

watching  the  sentinel  as  he  passed  again  without 
missing  the  boat. 

"They're  fine  soldiers,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"They  know  lots." 

Then  her  heart  gave  a  great  leap,  for  there  was 
a  soft  step  at  the  back  door.  Some  one  entered 
very  quietly,  and  she  became  as  cold  and  immov 
able  as  if  she  had  been  made  of  stone.  The  cat 
like  tread  moved  slowly  into  the  living-room,  and 
she  trembled  like  an  aspen.  She  tried  to  raise  the 
window,  thinking  that  she  could  scream  if  she 
could  not  get  out,  but  her  hands  shook  so  that  it 
was  useless.  Meanwhile  the  intruder  came  nearer, 
with  the  same  stealthy  steps.  No  one  had 
crossed  the  river  and  the  sentinel  was  not  in 
sight. 

Some  one  opened  the  door  of  the  schoolroom 
and  closed  it  with  the  least  possible  noise.  Then 
the  hushed  steps  came  nearer  still,  but  the  win 
dow  would  not  move.  Her  door  was  open,  but 
she  knew  the  flimsy  lock  would  not  hold,  even  if 
she  could  manage  to  shut  it.  An  instant — now— 
she  tried  to  shut  her  eyes,  but  could  not — horror 
upon  horror  came  upon  her — then  Ronald  en 
tered  her  room. 

For  a  blind  instant  the  earth  whirled  beneath 
her,  then  the  flood-gates  opened  and  Beatrice 


Thoroughbreds  13 l 

wept.  He  did  as  any  other  man  in  his  place 
would  have  done  and  put  a  protecting  arm  around 
her,  but,  though  sorely  tempted,  manfully  re 
frained  from  kissing  her. 

''I'm  so  sorry  I  frightened  you,"  he  said,  with 
bitter  self-reproach.  "  Don't,  Beatrice  —  Miss 
Manning, — please  don't  cry  any  more!" 

As  soon  as  she  was  conscious  of  her  position, 
she  drew  away  from  him,  still  sobbing.  It  was 
not  only  her  fright,  but  the  natural  result  of  the 
high  tension  at  which  she  had  lived  for  more 
than  a  week.  He  left  her  and  rummaged  around 
until  he  found  a  bottle  of  brandy,  then  he 
brought  her  a  glass  of  water  liberally  strengthened 
with  it. 

"Here,"  he  said,  "drink  this." 

She  obeyed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  began  to  re 
cover  her  self-possession.  "How  did  you  get 
here?"  she  asked. 

"  I  went  up  the  river  a  little  way,  landed  on  this 
side,  and  walked  down  to  the  back  door.  You 
did  n't  suppose  I'd  let  you  come  over  here  alone, 
did  you?" 

"  Did  you  see  me  when  I  came?" 

"Certainly.  I  expected  you  to  do  just  what 
you  did,  and  I  kept  my  eye  on  you.  I  knew  you 
were  in  the  house,  because  I  saw  the  boat  outside, 


i32          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

but  I  did  n't  mean  to  frighten  you.  I  just  thought 
I  'd  look  around  until  we  met." 

"You — you — walked  so  softly,"  she  said,  with 
quivering  lips. 

"Did  I?  That's  the  first  time  I've  ever  been 
accused  of  that.  It  must  have  been  your  im 
agination." 

"Perhaps,"  she  answered,  with  a  long  sigh. 

"If  you  have  everything  you  want,  we'll  go 
back  now." 

Scarcely  conscious  of  what  she  did,  she  stooped 
to  pick  up  the  things  that  had  fallen  to  the  floor. 
They  seemed  utterly  useless  for  all  time,  but  she 
felt  the  necessity  of  action.  As  they  turned  to 
leave  the  room,  he  took  her  cold  hands  in  his  and 
looked  down  into  her  wet  eyes. 

"Promise  me,"  he  said,  "that  you  will  never 
again  disobey  a  military  order." 

She  hesitated,  and  he  repeated  it. 

"How  do  you  know  I'd  keep  a  promise?"  she 
asked,  to  gain  time. 

"  Because  you're  a  thoroughbred." 

Something  in  his  eyes  subdued  her.  "  I  pro 
mise,"  she  said,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"  All  right.  Now,  we'll  not  say  anything  about 
this  to  any  one — do  you  understand?" 

She  was  still  trembling  when  he  helped  her  into 


Thoroughbreds  133 

the  pirogue,  and  neither  spoke  while  they  were 
crossing.  When  they  entered  the  gate,  Captain 
Franklin  met  them. 

' '  Did  she  ask  you  to  take  her  over  ? "  he  in 
quired  of  Ronald. 

The  Ensign's  eyes  met  his  squarely.  ''Yes, 
sir." 

"Did  you  go  together?  I  thought  I  saw  you 
going  alone." 

"We  went  together.  She  was  waiting  for  me 
outside." 

"  Very  well.  I  will  have  no  disobedience  of  my 
orders — remember  that,  both  of  you." 

"  Don't  faint,"  George  whispered,  warningly,  as 
the  Captain  walked  away.  "It's  all  right  now, 
but  that's  the  first  time  I  ever  lied — in  my  official 
capacity." 

Beatrice  put  a  small,  icy  hand  into  his  own. 
"Thank  you,"  she  said  quietly;  "you're  a  thor 
oughbred,  too." 


CHAPTER  IX 

ON    THE    FORT    WAYNE    TRAIL 

AS  silently  as  they  had  gone,  the  Indians  re 
turned.  No  one  but  the  sentinels  saw  the 
ghostly  procession  when  it  passed  the  Fort  from 
the  southward,  in  the  grey  mists  of  dawn. 
Black  Partridge  was  still  at  the  head,  the  others 
following  him  in  single  file. 

The  deserted  wigwams  in  the  hollow  were  as 
they  had  left  them,  and  inside  of  an  hour  they  had 
taken  up  the  thread  of  existence  at  the  point 
where  the  annual  pilgrimage  had  broken  it  off. 
Some  exchanges  of  gifts  were  made  among  them ; 
but,  in  the  main,  each  one  was  satisfied  with  what 
he  had  received. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  chief  went  to  the 
trading  station,  and,  finding  it  deserted,  went 
immediately  to  the  Fort  in  search  of  his  friend 
Shaw-nee-aw-kee.  They  had  a  long  conversation 
on  the  parade-ground,  and  soldiers  and  civilians 

134 


On  the  Fort  Wayne  Trail         135 

gathered  around  them,  listening  impatiently  until 
the  interpreter  was  ready  to  speak. 

"I  understand  it  now,"  said  Mackenzie  to  the 
Captain.  "He  says  that  while  they  were  up  in 
Canada,  the  Chippewas  and  Ottawas  sent  speeches 
among  them,  saying  the  northern  tribes  had 
heard  that  the  Pottawattomies  and  Winnebagoes 
were  not  upon  good  terms  with  the  white  people 
and  that  they  desired  them  to  be  friendly.  His 
own  people  only  laughed,  but  the  Winnebagoes 
determined  to  show  their  independence  in  a  re 
fusal  to  obey  the  commands  of  other  tribes.  So  a 
dozen  braves  came  here  to  take  some  white  scalps, 
that  they  might  flaunt  them  in  the  faces  of  the 
others.  He  says  a  large  force  was  waiting  in  the 
woods,  and  that  they  would  doubtless  have  killed 
every  one  outside  of  the  Fort,  even  if  they  did  not 
make  an  attack  upon  the  Fort  itself,  but  that  the 
guns  of  the  White  Father  frightened  them  away." 

Here  the  chief  began  to  talk  again,  with  many 
gestures. 

"He  says,"  continued  Mackenzie,  "that  we 
need  not  now  be  afraid,  since  he  and  his  people 
have  returned  to  protect  us.  He  is  sorry  that  his 
friends  have  suffered  during  his  absence,  and  after 
this  a  part  of  the  tribe  will  always  remain  here, 
while  the  others  go  after  their  gifts." 


The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"We  can  go  home,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Mackenzie. 

"  Is  n't  he  splendid ! ' '  exclaimed  Beatrice.  ' '  I  'd 
like  to  paint  his  picture.  Do  you  think  he'd  let 
me,  Uncle  John  ? ' ' 

It  took  a  great  deal  of  explanation  to  make 
Black  Partridge  understand,  but  he  finally  con 
sented,  on  condition  that  the  picture  would  be 
given  to  him.  "He's  afraid  the  white  squaw  will 
make  a  charm,"  said  Mackenzie. 

"All  right,"  laughed  Beatrice.  "I  can  make 
several  sketches,  and  he  can  have  one  of  the  pic 
tures.  He  need  n't  know  I  make  more  than  one." 

By  night  the  Mackenzies  were  in  their  own 
home  again,  and,  as  the  weeks  passed,  the  fear 
was  forgotten  by  all  save  Beatrice.  She  could  not 
enter  her  own  room  without  a  vivid  remembrance 
of  her  fright,  coupled  with  the  consciousness  that 
she  had  cried  like  a  baby,  and  that  the  Ensign  had 
put  his  arm  around  her  unrebuked.  She  hated 
herself  for  her  weakness  and  blamed  herself  bit 
terly  for  her  foolishness,  because,  if  she  had  only 
stopped  to  think,  she  would  have  known  the  dif 
ference  in  sound  between  a  moccasin  and  an  army 
boot. 

Still,  at  night,  she  would  sometimes  start  from 
troubled  dreams  with  the  same  deadly  fear  upon 
her  and  tremble  long  after  she  knew  she  was 


On  the  Fort  Wayne  Trail         137 

awake  and  safe.  Behind  it  all  was  something  she 
did  not  care  to  think  of,  but  memory  gave  her  no 
peace. 

Pictures,  clear  and  distinct,  intruded  upon  her 
mental  vision  against  her  will.  She  saw  Robert 
leaning  on  his  musket,  the  only  man  in  the  Fort 
who  was  not  up  and  doing  when  danger  seemed 
imminent,  and  shuddered  at  the  look  on  his  face 
when  she  called  him  a  coward.  In  his  eyes  there 
had  been  something  of  the  same  reproach  with 
which  a  dog  regards  the  well-loved  master  who 
has  unjustly  struck  him.  "Lexington!"  she  said 
to  herself  over  and  over  again;  "his  fathers 
fought  there,  and  I  called  their  son  a  coward!" 

Swiftly  upon  the  memory  came  the  sound  of  his 
voice  when  he  had  cried,  "Beatrice,  do  you  de 
spise  me?"  and  the  sight  of  his  strained,  eager 
face,  as  he  waited  for  her  to  speak.  The  know 
ledge  of  her  answer  made  her  shrink  from  herself 
with  bitterness  and  shame.  The  obvious  course 
of  apology  lay  open  to  her,  but  her  pride  refused 
to  humble  itself  that  far.  Time  and  time  again 
she  had  determined  to  make  partial  atonement  in 
that  way,  but  her  stubborn  lips  would  not  move 
to  shape  the  word  "forgive." 

Robert  seemed  to  have  forgotten,  and  each 
day  he  made  himself  dearer  to  the  Mackenzies. 


138          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Between  the  trader  and  his  college-bred  nephew 
there  slowly  grew  one  of  those  rare  friendships 
possible  only  to  men.  Mackenzie  had  not  spent 
his  life  upon  the  frontier  without  learning  to  un 
derstand  his  fellow-man,  and  to  read,  though 
perhaps  roughly,  the  inner  meaning  of  outward 
semblances.  In  Robert  he  saw  the  blood  of  the 
Forsyths  undefiled — the  martial  spirit  was  there, 
educated,  refined,  and  tempered  until  it  was  akin 
to  polished  steel.  From  his  mother  the  boy  had 
received  broad  charity  and  a  great  gentleness,  as 
well  as  the  adamantine  pride  which  is  at  once  the 
strength  and  terror  of  a  woman's  heart. 

Mrs.  Mackenzie  had  quickly  learned  to  love  him, 
and  with  her  he  took  the  place  of  a  grown  son. 
He  helped  her  in  countless  little  ways,  and  often 
sat  with  his  arm  thrown  over  her  shoulders  while 
she  sewed  upon  the  rough  garments  her  husband 
wore,  and  talked  to  him  as  she  worked.  The  child 
ren  idolised  him. 

From  all  this  Beatrice  felt  herself  an  outcast, 
though  there  was  no  visible  evidence  that  she  was 
not  one  of  them.  The  trader  laughed  and  joked 
with  her  as  he  always  had  done,  and  her  aunt  re 
garded  her  with  tender  affection.  Maria  Indiana 
and  the  baby  adored  her,  and  the  other  children 
openly  admired  her,  in  spite  of  a  lingering  belief 


On  the  Fort  Wayne  Trail         139 

that  she  had  broken  one  of  the  Ten  Command 
ments.  Still,  she  was  not  satisfied,  for  every  day 
she  remembered,  with  a  pang  of  self-reproach,  and 
Robert  stood  aloof.  He  never  failed  to  be  cour 
teous  and  considerate,  yet  between  them  was  a 
cold,  impenetrable  distance  which  never  softened 
in  the  slightest  degree. 

Beatrice  and  Ronald  were  great  friends.  His 
unnatural  shyness  had  worn  off,  but  he  did  not 
treat  her  with  the  easy  familiarity  the  other 
women  at  the  post  had  learned  to  expect  from 
him.  He  was  quite  capable  of  teasing  Mrs.  How 
ard  and  Mrs.  Franklin  to  the  limit  of  their  en 
durance;  but  Mrs.  Mackenzie  and  Beatrice  were 
included  in  the  manifestations  of  deep  respect. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Burns  decided  to  leave  the  post 
and  go  to  Fort  Wayne,  where  they  had  relatives, 
as  soon  as  Mrs.  Burns  was  able  to  travel.  The 
man  and  boy  who  had  escaped  from  the  Indians 
at  Lee's  determined  to  go  with  them.  The  farm 
was  too  far  away  from  the  Fort  to  be  altogether 
safe,  and  a  kind  of  disembodied  horror  had  hung 
about  the  place  since  the  killing  of  the  two  men 
and  the  savage  mutilation  of  their  bodies. 

Black  Partridge  and  a  few  of  the  Pottawat- 
tomies  volunteered  to  accompany  them  to  Fort 
Wayne  whenever  they  might  be  ready  to  start. 


140          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

For  a  time  it  was  thought  best  to  take  one  of  the 
waggons  at  the  Fort ;  but  Spring  was  at  hand,  and 
there  would  doubtless  be  streams  which  a  waggon 
could  not  successfully  ford. 

Ronald  assisted  Mr.  Burns  in  selecting  and 
packing  the  few  things  they  were  to  take  with 
them,  and  their  household  effects  were  distributed 
among  the  Indians  who  were  to  compose  the 
guard.  The  four  white  people  were  to  ride  horse 
back  and  the  Indians  were  to  follow  on  foot,  rid 
ing  the  horses  back  when  the  others  had  safely 
reached  Fort  Wayne. 

4 'Miss  Manning,"  said  Ronald  one  afternoon, 
"  we  are  having  trouble  in  finding  a  horse  suitable 
for  Mrs.  Burns.  Would  you  be  willing  to  lend  her 
yours?" 

I  'No,  I  would  n't,"  snapped  Beatrice. 

"The  horse  will  be  brought  back  safely," 
pleaded  the  Ensign. 

II  No,  she  won't,  because  she  is  n't  going." 
Ronald's  face  changed  and  he  left  her  without 

another  word. 

"I  don't  care,"  said  Beatrice  to  herself;  "she 
could  n't  ride  Queen  anyway.  Queen  would  n't 
let  her — nobody  has  ever  ridden  her  but  me." 
Later,  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  might  have  ex 
plained  more  fully  to  Ronald,  but  she  put  the 


On  the  Fort  Wayne  Trail         141 

thought  from  her  as  unworthy  of  a  proud  spirit. 
She  knew  that  he  had  put  her  down  as  selfish,  but 
repeatedly  told  herself  that  she  did  not  care. 

The  day  was  set  for  their  departure,  and  they 
were  to  start  at  sunrise.  The  night  before,  Bea 
trice  found  it  impossible  to  sleep,  and,  long  before 
daylight,  she  got  up  and  dressed.  Because  there 
was  nothing  to  do  in  the  house  and  she  was  afraid 
of  waking  the  others,  she  went  out  on  the  piazza. 

Across  the  river  there  were  signs  of  life,  and  she 
got  into  a  pirogue  with  the  laudable  desire  to  say 
good-bye  to  Mrs.  Burns.  When  she  reached  the 
Fort,  Mrs.  Franklin  and  Katherine  were  already 
up  and  assisting  Mrs.  Burns  in  her  preparations 
for  the  journey;  but  the  Captain  and  Lieutenant 
Howard  were  not  there. 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  Beatrice  that  she  might 
take  Queen  and  ride  a  little  way  along  the  trail. 
She  had  been  over  the  ground  before  and  was  not 
afraid  to  come  back  alone.  Without  saying  any 
thing  of  her  intention,  she  appeared  on  the  parade- 
ground,  mounted,  and  met  a  chorus  of  protests. 

"It  isn't  safe  for  you  to  go  alone,"  said  Mrs. 
Franklin. 

"Please  don't,  Bee,"  added  Katherine. 

"  Really,  Miss  Manning,"  observed  Doctor  Nor 
ton,  "it  is  not  best  for  you  to  go." 


H2          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"  I'm  not  afraid,"  replied  the  girl,  with  a  toss  of 
her  head. 

The  party  she  had  determined  to  escort,  indi 
vidually  and  collectively,  offered  feeble  objections, 
which  were  immediately  waved  aside.  "I'm 
going,"  said  Beatrice,  "because  I  want  to,  and 
because  it  would  break  Queen's  heart  if  we  went 
back  now." 

"What's  all  this  fuss  about?"  inquired  Ronald, 
sauntering  up,  and  rubbing  his  eyes. 

The  women  explained  all  at  once,  in  incoherent 
sentences;  but  Beatrice  did  not  appear  to  hear 
any  part  of  the  conversation  until  he  ended  it  by 
saying,  "She  can  go  if  she  wants  to,  because  I'm 
going  along." 

Beatrice  bit  her  lip.  "You  are  not,"  she  said, 
in  a  tone  of  command. 

"Yes,  I  am,"  he  laughed;  "and,  moreover,  you 
are  never  to  ride  out  of  the  gate  of  the  Fort  unless 
an  officer  goes  with  you." 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him  scornfully,  and 
Ronald,  still  laughing,  saluted.  "A  military 
order,  Miss  Manning." 

It  was  scarcely  light  when  they  started,  with 
Beatrice  leading  the  way.  Queen's  eager  feet 
fairly  flew,  and  the  girl's  pulses  caught  the  exult 
ant  sense  of  life.  The  others  fell  far  behind,  and 


On  the  Fort  Wayne  Trail         H3 

Beatrice  doubled  and  crossed  on  the  trail  wher 
ever  it  was  possible. 

They  had  gone  about  six  miles  from  the  Fort 
when  she  reined  in  and  waited  for  the  others  to 
come  up,  then  made  her  adieux. 

"  Why  do  you  say  good-bye?"  asked  Ronald. 

"  Why,  because  I'm  going  back  now." 

"Oh,  are  you  coming  back?  I  thought  you 
were  going  to  Fort  Wayne." 

She  made  no  reply,  but  watched  the  four  riders 
as  they  turned  a  little  away  from  the  lake  and 
went  south-west  over  the  prairie.  A  pack  horse, 
Black  Partridge,  and  four  other  Indians  were  fol 
lowing  them. 

"What  made  you  think  I  was  going  to  Fort 
Wayne?"  she  asked. 

"Nothing,  only  you  had  such  a  good  start. 
Besides,  you  live  there,  don't  you?" 

"No,"  she  said  slowly,  "I  live  here.  I  fought 
at  Fort  Wayne." 

"Indeed!"  remarked  Ronald,  with  polite  in 
terest  .  ' '  Indians  or  soldiers  ? ' ' 

The  pink  flush  upon  her  face  deepened.  "  Shall 
we  go  back,  now?" 

"As  you  please,  Miss  Manning." 

She  went  ahead,  leaving  him  to  follow  or  not  as 
he  chose. 


H4          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"  I  wish  Major  was  here,"  he  called  to  her. 

"Why?"  she  asked,  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Because  it's  the  same  kind  of  a  procession  we 
had  around  the  parade-ground,  and  I  enjoyed  that 
so  much." 

Beatrice  apparently  had  not  heard,  for  she  went 
on  at  the  same  leisurely  pace.  At  her  right, 
touched  here  and  there  with  silver,  the  lake  lay 
like  a  sheet  of  dusky  pearl.  Far  in  the  east  was 
spread  the  glowing  tapestry  of  dawn,  and  the  ris 
ing  wind  stirred  the  girl's  hair  faintly  as  she 
looked  across  the  water,  with  the  sunrise  reflected 
on  her  face. 

Ronald  saw  her  pure,  proud  profile,  touched  to 
exceeding  beauty  by  the  magic  light  of  morning, 
and  an  unconscious,  childish  wistfulness  in  the 
lines  of  her  mouth.  A  lump  came  into  his  throat 
and  he  swallowed  hard.  The  morning  was  in  his 
blood,  and  he  had  a  quick  sense  of  uplifting,  as  if 
his  heart  had  suddenly  found  its  wings. 

Then  Beatrice  turned  still  more  toward  him. 
1 '  It's  beautiful,  is  n't  it?"  she  asked,  softly. 

All  of  her  harshness  seemed  to  have  fallen  from 
her;  she  was  radiant  and  exquisitely  womanly 
in  this  new  mood,  and  the  boy's  soul  knelt  in 
worship. 

"Why  would  n't  you  let  me  come  alone?" 


On  the  Fort  Wayne  Trail         145 

"Because  I  didn't  want  you  frightened,"  he 
answered. 

The  dimple  at  the  corner  of  her  mouth  was 
barely  manifest  as  she  said,  demurely,  "You 
should  have  stayed,  then ;  for  you  are  the  one  who 
frightened  me." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  said.     "  I  told  you  that  before." 

"Yes,  I  know."  She  sighed,  and  added,  "It 
was  awful,  though,  and  I  shall  never  forget  it." 

"  Neither  shall  I." 

He  was  beside  her  now,  for  the  trail  had  wid 
ened,  and  he  put  his  hand  upon  the  small  white 
one  that  held  Queen's  bridle. 

"That  day,"  he  said  huskily,  "you  put  your 
hand  in  mine, — when  we  met  the  Captain, — a 
little,  cold  hand." 

She  nodded,  but  did  not  take  her  hand  away. 
"  I  was  dreadfully  frightened  then,  and  you  saved 
me." 

His  blood  leaped  in  his  veins.  "That's  no 
thing — I  'd  do  more  than  that  for  you,  any  time. 
I  had  my  reward  before  I  had  earned  it." 

The  girl's  violet  eyes  opened  wide.  "  I  don't 
understand." 

"  Have  you  forgotten  that  I  had  my  arm  around 
you,  just  for  a  minute?  I  have  dreamed  of  it 
ever  since — dear." 


146          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

For  an  instant  she  saw  him  as  if  he  had  been  a 
young  Greek  god,  strangely  met  in  the  fields  of 
Arcady ;  then  the  glamour  passed  and  he  was  only 
an  awkward  soldier  in  a  shabby  uniform.  She 
cut  Queen  with  her  riding- whip  and  went  furiously 
ahead,  but  a  boyish,  troubled  face  was  close  beside 
her. 

"Havel  offended  you?" 

Beatrice  smiled  with  calm  superiority.  "You 
should  n't  say  such  things,"  she  replied;  "  you  're 
far  too  young." 

"Huh!"  he  retorted,  with  spirit,  "I'm  twenty- 
five!" 

"  Twenty -five  ?"  she  repeated  incredulously; 
"I  don't  believe  it.  Why,  I'm  twenty  myself, 
and  I  never  thought  you  were  more  than  eighteen." 

She  laughed  wickedly  as  she  saw  him  squirm. 
Through  long  experience  she  had  found  that  shaft 
one  of  the  most  effective  in  her  repertory,  which 
was  not  by  any  means  limited.  More  than  once 
it  had  quenched  an  incipient  declaration  as  effect 
ually  as  if  it  had  been  a  shower  of  cold  water. 

They  rode  in  silence  till  they  reached  the  Fort. 
"Shall  I  take  you  across?"  he  asked. 

"  No,  thank  you ;  I  can  go  by  myself,  if  there  is 
no  military  order  against  it;  but  you  may  take 
Queen  to  the  stables,  if  you  like." 


On  the  Fort  Wayne  Trail         147 

She  dismounted,  taking  no  note  of  his  proffered 
assistance,  and  went  to  the  river  without  an 
other  word.  He  watched  her  until  she  landed, 
then  turned  away,  leading  Queen.  "A  rose,  a 
little  rose,"  he  said  to  himself;  "but,  oh,  the 
thorns!" 

When  Beatrice  arrived,  she  found  the  family  in 
a  state  of  high  excitement.  Mackenzie  was  just 
preparing  to  go  over  to  the  Fort  and  ask  that  a 
search  party  be  sent  out  to  look  for  her.  He  had 
surmised  that  she  had  returned  to  Fort  Wayne 
until  he  found  that  none  of  her  things  were  miss 
ing,  and  he  received  her  explanation  in  stolid 
silence. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  us,  Bee?"  asked  Mrs. 
Mackenzie.  "  You  gave  us  all  a  fright." 

"Dear  Aunt  Eleanor,"  she  cooed,  rubbing  her 
soft  cheek  against  Mrs.  Mackenzie's,  "I'm  so 
sorry.  I  did  n't  know  I  was  going  till  I  got  ready 
to  start, — I  never  know, — and  I  did  not  dream 
that  any  one  would  care." 

Robert  had  been  conducting  a  private  search 
on  his  own  account,  and  a  tell-tale  relief  crossed 
his  face  when  he  came  in  and  found  her  at  the 
breakfast  table. 

"Were  you  worried  about  me,  Cousin  Rob?" 

The  deep,  vibrant  contralto  voice  thrilled  him, 


148          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

but  he  told  his  lie  well.  "  No,"  he  answered,  care 
lessly,  "of  course  not.  Why  should  I  be?" 

The  new  mood  of  softness  lasted  all  day.  Bea 
trice  did  not  stop  to  analyse,  but  she  was  dimly 
conscious  that  something  strange  had  happened 
to  her.  At  twilight  she  went  out  on  the  piazza, 
humming  happily  to  herself,  and  Robert  smiled  at 
her  as  she  came  toward  the  open  window  of  his 
room. 

He  had  an  old  sword  in  his  hand  and  was  rub 
bing  the  thin  blade  with  a  handkerchief.  "  What 
are  you  doing?"  she  asked,  curiously. 

"Just  cleaning  this." 

"Is  it  yours?" 

"Yes,  it  is  now;  but  it  was  my  grandfather's." 
He  straightened  instinctively,  as  if  in  answer  to 
some  far-away  bugle,  and  looked  at  her  without 
seeming  to  see.  "  He  fought  at  Lexington." 

His  voice  betrayed  his  pride  of  blood,  and  his 
nostrils  dilated  with  a  quick,  inward  breath.  His 
hands  moved  lovingly  along  the  keen  blade — and 
then  Beatrice  humbled  herself. 

"  Cousin  Rob,"  she  began,  impulsively,  "  I  want 
to  tell  you  something.  I'm  sorry  and  ashamed 
for " 

Scarlet  signals  were  flaming  in  her  cheeks,  and 
he  interrupted  her.  "Say  no  more  about  it,"  he 


On  the  Fort  Wayne  Trail         149 

said  generously;  "we  were  all  unaccountably 
excited,  and  at  such  times  we  say  and  do  things 
that  otherwise  we  would  not.  Forget  about  it." 
"I'll  be  glad  to,"  she  answered  earnestly;  but 
in  her  heart  of  hearts  she  knew  she  was  not 
forgiven. 


CHAPTER  X 

A   GLEAM   AFAR 

AS  warm  weather  approached,  the  children 
grew  restless  under  so  much  schooling, 
and  Robert  made  Saturday  a  holiday.  In  order 
to  help  his  uncle  more  efficiently,  he  was  trying  to 
learn  the  Indian  tongue,  but  found  it  far  more 
difficult  than  Greek  and  Latin,  and  made  many 
ludicrous  mistakes.  Mackenzie  was  very  patient 
with  him,  and  Black  Partridge  made  occasional 
comments  and  suggestions,  being  deeply  flattered 
by  the  college  man's  desire  to  learn  from  him. 

The  trader  had  told  him  of  the  great  school  in 
the  East,  where  Forsyth  had  learned  everything 
that  was  written  down  in  books,  and  yet  could  not 
talk  with  the  Indians,  or  make  a  fire  by  rubbing 
sticks  together ;  and  the  implied  superiority  of  the 
chief  had  its  own  subtle  gratification. 

The  women  at  the  Fort  were  very  fond  of  Bea 
trice,  and  she  made  daily  visits  there,  but  time 

150 


A  Gleam  Afar  I51 

began  to  hang  heavily  upon  her  hands.  Without 
knowing  why,  she  was  restless  and  unhappy, 
and,  after  the  manner  of  her  sex,  attributed  it  to 
some  hidden  illness  of  the  body  rather  than  the 
mind. 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  simply  must  go  somewhere  or  do 
something,"  she  said  to  Doctor  Norton,  in  a  vain 
effort  to  explain  her  unrest. 

He  examined  her  pulse  and  tongue,  then 
laughed  at  her.  "You're  all  right,"  he  said; 
"  there's  nothing  on  earth  the  matter  with  you." 

"There  is,  too,"  she  contradicted.  "I  don't 
feel  right  and  I  need  medicine." 

"  Quinine?" 

She  made  a  wry  face.     "  No,  I  don't  need  that." 

"Sulphur  and  molasses?" 

Beatrice  turned  up  her  nose  in  high  disdain. 
" Is  that  all  you  can  think  of?" 

"  No,"  replied  the  Doctor,  "  I  have  other  reme 
dies,  but  I  want  to  give  you  something  that  would 
please  you.  If  you  feel  that  you  need  medicine, 
my  entire  stock  is  at  your  service.  I  ask  only  for 
the  right  to  supervise  your  selection,  as  we  don't 
want  you  poisoned." 

They  were  sitting  on  the  piazza,  and  the  girl's 
laugh  reached  the  schoolroom  and  set  the  teach 
er's  heart  to  throbbing.  He  could  steel  himself 


152          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

against  her  smiles  and  her  playful  pouting,  but 
when  she  laughed,  he  was  lost. 

"I  don't  think  you'd  care  much,"  observed 
Beatrice,  "  whether  I  was  poisoned  or  not,  just  so 
you  did  n't  have  to  give  up  any  of  your  precious 
medicines.  You're  selfish — that's  all." 

"What  more  can  I  do,  Miss  Manning?  I've 
offered  you  all  my  worldly  goods.  Which  bottle 
do  you  want  ? ' ' 

"  Thank  you,  I  've  decided  not  to  rob  you.  I  '11 
die,  if  I  have  to,  without  medical  aid." 

"Some  people  prefer  it,"  murmured  Norton. 

"How  did  you  happen  to  come  here?"  she 
asked  abruptly. 

He  started  slightly,  remembering  the  face  that 
led  him,  like  a  star,  from  one  frontier  post  to 
another,  but  he  merely  said:  "An  army  surgeon 
has  no  choice.  We  go  where  we  are  sent  by  the 
powers  that  be." 

"I'd  hate  to  be  sent  anywhere." 

"I  believe  you,"  replied  the  Doctor,  smiling; 
"and  if  you  were  told  you  could  n't  go  anywhere 
that  place  would  immediately  become  desirable." 

"Wonderful  insight,"  commented  Beatrice. 
" Or  perhaps  some  one  has  told  you?" 

"  No,  I  don't  always  have  to  be  told.  I  can  see 
some  things,  you  know." 


A  Gleam  Afar  153 

" That's  what  Katherine  told  me.  She  said 
you  could  see  through  anything  or  anybody,  espe 
cially  a  woman.  Your  glance  goes  right  through 
us  and  ties  in  a  bow-knot  behind.  I  can  feel  the 
strings  dangling  from  my  shoulders  now." 

Robert  came  to  the  door,  followed  by  the  child 
ren,  who  were  eager  to  get  outdoors  for  the  short 
recess  they  had  every  day.  Beatrice  had  a  little 
insight  of  her  own,  and  had  noted  the  change  in 
Norton's  face  when  Katherine  was  mentioned,  and 
the  quick,  inquiring  look  in  Robert's  eyes  as  he 
greeted  them  both. 

"Forsyth,"  said  the  Doctor,  "I'm  going  now, 
and  I  turn  this  refractory  patient  over  to  you. 
She  needs  to  get  outdoors  and  walk  till  she  drops 
—it's  the  only  cure  for  impudence.  Will  you  see 
that  she  does  it?" 

"  Certainly,  if  she  will  go  with  me." 

"I'll  go,"  put  in  Beatrice,  "if  I  have  to  take 
medicine." 

They  watched  the  Doctor  until  he  started  across 
the  river.  "Perhaps,"  said  Robert,  "you'd 
rather  some  one  else  would  go  with  you.  If  so,  it 
can  b@  easily  arranged." 

"Now,  Cousin  Rob,"  said  the  girl,  coaxingly, 
"  don't  be  horrid  to  me.  You 're  the  only  cousin 
I  have,  except  Katherine  and  the  infants ;  and  as 


154          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

long  as  I'm  here  you'd  better  make  the  best  of 


His  heart  suddenly  contracted.  "Are  you  go 
ing  away  ? ' ' 

"I  can't,"  she  laughed.  "I  have  nowhere  to 
go/' 

Robert  smiled  curiously.  "  When  do  you  want 
to  go,  and  where?" 

" Saturday  morning,"  she  replied;  "to  the 
woods,  after  flowers." 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  quietly,  turning  away. 

To  one  of  them  the  days  passed  slowly,  but  on 
Saturday,  when  Beatrice  expressed  surprise  at 
the  rapid  flight  of  time,  Forsyth  unhesitatingly 
chimed  in.  She  looked  at  him  narrowly  when  she 
thought  he  did  not  know  it,  and  put  him  down  as 
a  self-absorbed  prig. 

She  was  at  odds  with  herself  when  they  started, 
but  it  was  one  of  those  rare  mornings  which  May 
sets  like  a  jewel  upon  the  rosary  of  the  year. 
They  walked  north  along  the  lake  shore,  and,  since 
silence  seemed  to  suit  her,  he  wisely  said  nothing. 

Gradually  peace  crept  into  her  heart,  and  as 
they  approached  the  woods  they  turned  to  the 
west,  where  white  blossoms  were  set  on  thorny 
boughs  and  budded  maples  were  crimson  with  new 
leaves. 


A  Gleam  Afar  155 

"You  were  good  to  bring  me  here,"  she  said 
gratefully;  "it  seems  like  an  enchanted  way." 

"I  am  glad  to  give  you  pleasure,"  he  replied 
conventionally. 

The  ground  was  still  hidden  under  the  brown 
leaves  of  October,  that  rustled  gently  with  a  pass 
ing  breeze  or  echoed  the  fairy  tread  of  the  Little 
People  of  the  Forest,  playing  hide-and-seek  in  the 
wake  of  Spring.  As  Beatrice  walked  ahead  of 
him,  it  seemed  to  Forsyth  that  she  belonged  to 
the  woods,  as  truly  as  did  the  nymphs  and  dryads 
of  old. 

Buttercups  scattered  garish  gold  around  them, 
and  beyond,  among  the  trees,  the  wild  geranium 
rose  on  its  slender  stalk,  making  a  phantom  bit  of 
colour  against  the  background  of  dead  leaves.  Be 
tween  the  mossy  stumps  budded  mandrakes  were 
huddled  closely  together,  afraid  to  bloom  till 
others  had  led  the  way.  Beatrice  looked  around 
her  and  drew  a  long  breath,  then  gently  stroked  a 
satin  bud  upon  a  bare  stalk  of  hickory. 

"Why  don't  you  pick  something?"  asked  Rob 
ert,  with  a  laugh.  "That's  what  we  came  for, 
is  n't  it?" 

"No,  I  can't  pick  things.  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
hurting  them.  Suppose  you  lived  here  in  this 
lovely  place  and  a  giant  came  along  and  broke  you 


156          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

off  at  the  waist  to  take  your  head  home  with  him 
— how  do  you  suppose  you'd  feel?" 

"I  don't  think  I'd  feel  anything  after  the 
break.  Besides,  that's  not  a  fair  hypothesis. 
There  is  no  real  analogy." 

"Hy-poth-e-sis,"  repeated  Beatrice,  looking  at 
him,  mischievously;  "did  I  pronounce  it  right?" 

' '  Of  course — why  ? ' ' 

"  Because,"  she  answered,  with  her  eyes  dancing, 
"  it 's  a  nice  word  and  I  'd  like  to  learn  it.  I  want 
to  say  it  to  Doctor  Norton.  Some  of  his  words  are 
as  long  at  that,  but  they're  not  nearly  so  compli 
cated,  and  I  yearn  to  excel  in  his  own  specialty." 

The  girl's  mock  reverence  for  his  learning  irri 
tated  him  unspeakably,  and  he  closed  his  lips  in 
a  thin,  tight  line. 

"  Cousin  Rob,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand  on  his 
arm,  and  with  bewildering  kindness  in  her  tone, 
" can't  you  take  me  just  as  I  am?" 

The  temptation  to  take  her,  just  as  she  was,  into 
his  arms,  made  him  draw  back  a  step  or  two.  "  I 
always  make  a  point  of  that,"  he  said,  clearing  his 
throat. 

Then  a  vista  opened  before  them,  which  might 
have  been  a  field  of  Paradise.  Across  the  plain, 
where  the  dead  goldenrod  of  Autumn  still  lingered, 
there  were  white  blossoms  on  invisible  branches, 


A  Gleam  Afar  157 

set  against  the  turquoise  sky,  as  still  as  stars  of 
frost.  It  was  as  though  a  cloud  of  white  butter 
flies  had  paused  for  an  instant,  with  every  dusty 
wing  longing  for  flight. 

Great  white  triliums  bloomed  in  clusters  farther 
on,  with  here  and  there  a  red  one,  lonely  as  a  lost 
child.  Far  to  the  right  was  a  little  hollow  filled 
with  wild  phlox,  shading  from  white  to  deepest 
lavender,  and  breathing  the  haunting  fragrance 
which  no  one  ever  forgets. 

"Let's  go  to  the  lake,"  she  said. 

Tall  bluffs  rose  on  either  side  where  they  turned 
eastward,  with  triliums  and  dog-tooth  violets 
within  easy  reach,  and  a  robin's  cheery  chirp  was 
answered  by  another  far  away.  Slanting  sun 
beams  came  like  arrows  of  light  into  the  shadow 
of  the  woods,  and  at  the  shore  line  was  an  expanse 
of  sand  which  shone  like  silver  under  the  white 
light  of  noon. 

"Why  do  you  stand  there?"  asked  Beatrice. 
1  'Why  don't  you  sit  down?" 

"  I  was  just  looking  at  something." 

"What?" 

"Come  here — perhaps  you  can  see." 

She  strained  her  eyes  in  the  direction  he  in 
dicated,  but  unsuccessfully.  - "  I  don't  see  any 
thing,"  she  said;  "what  is  it  like?" 


158          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"I  don't  know.  It's  something  shiny,  but  it 
is  n't  a  bird,  because  it  does  n't  move." 

"Birds  are  n't  shiny,  anyway,"  objected  Bea 
trice.  "Let's  eat  our  lunch." 

"I'm  willing,  for  it's  getting  heavy,  and  I'd 
rather  carry  it  inside." 

Beatrice  laughed  until  the  tears  rolled  down  her 
cheeks.  "That's  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  you 
say  anything  funny,"  she  said,  wiping  her  eyes. 
"Mr.  Ronald  is  always  saying  funny  things." 

A  dubious  smile  crossed  Robert's  face,  and  there 
was  a  long  silence.  "  I  wish  you'd  show  me  that 
shiny  thing  again,  Cousin  Rob,"  she  said  at  length ; 
"I'm  interested  in  it." 

"You  did  n't  seem  to  be." 

"That's  because  I  was  hungry,"  she  explained. 
"  I  feel  better  now,  and  by  the  time  we've  finished 
our  lunch  I'll  be  absorbingly  interested  in  it." 

Robert  stood  on  the  sand,  in  the  same  place  as 
before,  and  saw  the  silvery  gleam  again.  Then 
she  took  his  place  and  saw  it,  too.  "Why,"  she 
said,  "is  n't  it  queer?  Do  you  think  it's  the  sun 
on  a  birch?" 

"  No,  it's  too  high,  and  birches  don't  often  grow 
on  the  very  edge  of  the  shore." 

"That  isn't  the  edge." 

"  Well,  it 's  near  it.     The  light  just  hangs  in  the 


A  Gleam  Afar  159 

air.  There  does  n't  seem  to  be  anything  behind 
it.  I've  often  seen  stray  gleams  in  the  woods 
and  tried  to  find  them,  but  I  never  found  any 
thing.  It's  a  daylight  will-o'-the-wisp." 

"Let's  follow  this  one,"  suggested  Beatrice. 

They  walked  along  the  hard  sand,  close  to  the 
water,  stopping  every  few  steps  to  find  the  gleam. 
Sometimes  it  was  only  a  thread  of  light,  detached 
and  unrelated  to  anything  around  it,  then  in  other 
places  it  was  a  white  glare,  like  the  reflection 
thrown  from  a  mirror. 

Often  they  lost  it,  but  found  it  again  a  little 
farther  on.  Beatrice  was  tired  but  determined, 
and  kept  on  for  what  seemed  miles.  Then  they 
stopped  several  times  without  finding  it.  "  Let's 
go  up  into  the  woods,"  she  said;  " perhaps  we  '11 
see  it  again  from  there." 

They  climbed  the  steep  bluff  of  sand,  with  the 
aid  of  bushes  and  cotton  wood  saplings,  and  for  an 
instant  caught  the  light  again,  then  it  vanished. 
The  girl  was  pale,  and  Robert  feared  they  had 
come  too  far. 

"We'll  go  back,"  he  said,  "as  soon  as  you  rest 
for  a  little  while.  Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  you 
were  tired?" 

"Because  I'm  not,"  she  retorted.  "I'm  will 
ing  to  rest  a  little  while,  but  I  'm  going  to  find  it." 


160          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

They  sat  down  under  the  spreading  branches  of 
an  elm  for  a  few  minutes,  then,  in  spite  of  his 
expostulations,  Beatrice  started  north  again. 
"We  can  walk  till  midnight,"  he  pleaded,  "with 
out  finding  it,  and  it's  foolish,  anyway." 

"No,  it  is  n't;  see  there!" 

In  the  air,  between  the  bluff  and  the  lake,  hung 
a  shimmering  thread  of  light  which  seemed  close 
by,  and  all  at  once  he  became  as  eager  as  she. 
They  walked  rapidly  for  a  few  moments,  then 
Beatrice  stopped. 

"Why,"  she  said,  in  a  high  key,  "it's  a  house!" 

"  Be  careful,"  warned  Robert,  "we  'd  better  go 
back." 

"  I'm  not  going  back  till  I  see.  I've  come  too 
far!" 

A  little  farther  on,  they  came  to  it.  Set  far 
back  into  the  bluff,  so  that  only  the  face  of  it  was 
visible,  was  a  little  one-roomed  cabin,  built  of 
logs.  The  door  was  open,  but  the  place  was 
empty,  as  Beatrice  discovered.  "Come  in,"  she 
said  hospitably. 

"We'd  better  go  back,"  said  Forsyth,  warn- 
ingly.  "Come!" 

"I  will,  in  just  a  minute." 

She  took  a  long  look  about  the  room,  then  came 
out.  From  the  top  of  the  cabin,  which  projected 


A  Gleam  Afar  161 

only  a  foot  or  so  from  the  bluff,  and  suspended 
from  a  whittled  branch  not  quite  weather-worn, 
hung  a  silver  cross,  fully  eight  inches  high,  with 
a  wondrously  moulded  figure  of  the  Christ  stretched 
upon  it. 

Robert's  eyes  followed  hers,  and  for  a  few  min 
utes  neither  spoke.  "That  's  what  we  saw,"  she 
murmured,  in  a  low  tone;  "that's  the  light  that 
led  us  here — the  sun  upon  the  cross!" 

"  Come,"  said  Robert,  firmly,  taking  her  by  the 
arm. 

Reluctantly  she  let  him  lead  her  away,  and 
they  turned  south,  keeping  close  to  the  lake 
shore,  but  out  of  the  sand. 

"Who  lives  there?"  she  asked. 

"Why,  I  don't  know— how  should  I?" 

"It  was  neat  inside,  and  there  was  blue  clay 
and  chips  in  the  cracks,  just  as  there  is  at  home. 
There  was  a  fireplace,  too,  but  I  did  n't  see  any 
chimney." 

"There  was  a  chimney,  though,  of  some  dark- 
coloured  stone.  It  looked  like  a  stump  on  the 
bluff.  I  noticed  it  while  you  were  inside." 

"There's  no  dark-coloured  stone  around  here." 

"Then  it  must  have  been  limestone  darkened 
with  mud.  I  did  n't  get  near  enough  to  see." 

' '  Somebody  lives  there, ' '  said  Beatrice.    ' '  There 


1 62          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

was  a  narrow  bed,  with  a  blue-and-white  patch 
work  quilt  upon  it,  and  two  chairs  made  out  of 
barrels,  and  a  little  table  and  shelves, — do  you 
think  Indians  live  there  ? ' ' 

"It's  possible.  Some  of  them  may  be  more 
civilised  than  the  rest  and  prefer  to  live  in  a 
house — in  the  Winter,  at  least,"  he  added,  remem 
bering  the  panes  of  glass  in  the  front  of  the  house, 
either  side  of  the  door. 

"It's  queer  that  a  cross  like  that  should  be 
there." 

"Stolen,"  he  suggested  promptly,  "from  some 
Catholic  church  in  the  wilderness." 

"I'll  tell  you  what,"  she  said,  after  a  long  sil 
ence  ;  "  let 's  say  nothing  about  it  to  any  one — just 
keep  it  a  secret  for  the  present.  What  do  you 
say?" 

"I'm  willing."  The  idea  of  a  secret  with  his 
pretty  cousin  was  far  from  unpleasant  to  Robert. 

"Because,  if  the  others  knew,  some  of  the  sol 
diers  would  go  there — Mr.  Ronald  would  be  the 
first  one.  Besides,  I  've  noticed  that  if  you  really 
want  to  find  out  about  anything,  you  always  can, 
though  it  takes  time.  I'd  rather  we'd  find  out 
by  ourselves,  would  n't  you?" 

Robert  thought  he  would. 

"I  think,"  she  continued,  "that  some  of  the 


A  Gleam  Afar  163 

Indians  live  there,  as  you  said,  and  that  the  cross 
was  stolen  and  hung  over  the  door  for  an  orna 
ment.  Perhaps  Black  Partridge  lives  there — he 
seems  to  know  more  than  the  rest." 

"  Yes ;  that 's  possible.  Anyhow,  we  '11  find  out 
without  asking  anybody, — is  that  it?" 

"  That's  a  bargain.  Whoever  lives  there 
does  n't  want  to  be  bothered,  for  you  can't  see 
the  house  at  all  except  from  the  shore;  and  in 
Summer,  when  the  canoes  are  passing,  it  must  be 
pretty  well  hidden  by  the  saplings  and  the  under 
growth  on  the  ledge  in  front  of  it.  There's  just 
one  place  there  where  anybody  can  get  down — a 
steep  little  path,  worn  smooth." 

"  You  saw  a  great  deal  in  a  few  minutes,  did  n't 
you?"  asked  Robert,  admiringly. 

"Of  course,"  she  answered,  with  a  toss  of  her 
head.  "A  woman  can  see  more  in  one  minute 
than  a  man  can  see  in  sixty — did  n't  you  know 
that?" 

"I  did  n't,  but  I  do  now." 

Silver-winged  gulls  glistened  in  the  sun  for  a 
moment,  then  plunged  into  the  cool  softness  be 
low.  A  rabbit  track  wound  a  leisurely  way  across 
the  sand  and  disappeared  at  the  bluff.  Down  a 
ravine  came  a  tiny  stream,  murmuring  sleepily  all 
along  its  way  to  the  lake. 


1 64          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Beatrice  sighed  and  her  eyes  drooped.  "  Take 
me  home,"  she  said. 

The  blue  of  the  water  grew  deeper,  then  changed 
to  grey.  The  white  clouds  turned  to  rose  and 
gold,  touched  with  royal  purple,  and  the  wings  of 
the  gulls  no  longer  shone.  A  blue  jay  with  slow- 
beating  wings  sank  to  his  nest  in  a  lofty  maple, 
and,  somewhere,  a  robin  chirped  mournfully,  as  if 
he,  too,  were  tired. 

At  last  they  came  to  the  edge  of  the  woods  and 
saw  the  house,  with  the  four  tall  poplars  at  the 
gate,  the  shimmering  gold  of  sunset  upon  the 
river,  and  the  Fort  beyond.  The  exquisite  peace 
of  the  woods  had  been  like  that  of  another  sphere. 
There  was  a  twittering  of  little  birds  in  swraying 
nests,  a  sudden  chill,  a  shadow,  and  a  mist.  The 
fairy  patter  was  hurried  and  hushed,  the  rustling 
leaves  were  quiet,  and  she  leaned  wearily  upon  his 
arm. 

" Tired?"  he  asked  tenderly. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  smiling  back  at  him,  "  but 
happy.  Thank  you  for  a  perfect  day." 


CHAPTER  XI 

A   JUNE   DAY 

ON  a  warm  morning  in  June,  Beatrice  took 
her  despised  sewing  under  an  unwilling 
arm  and  went  over  to  Mrs.  Howard's.  Mrs. 
Franklin  was  there  also,  and  they  all  sat  on  the 
porch,  under  the  impression  that  it  was  cooler 
there  than  indoors. 

"  I  wish  you  girls  would  show  me  how  this  goes," 
pleaded  Beatrice.  She  was  making  herself  a  gown 
of  pink  calico,  and  encountering  new  difficulties  at 
every  turn. 

"Where's  your  pattern,"  asked  Katherine. 

"I  haven't  any  map,"  returned  Beatrice;  "I 
lost  it.  I  sawed  this  out  by  an  old  one." 

"  It  looks  as  if  it  had  been  sawed,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Franklin.  "  Why  did  n't  you  ask  Mrs.  Mackenzie 
to  help  you  cut  it?" 

"Because  I  didn't  want  Aunt  Eleanor  to  be 
ashamed  of  me." 

165 


1 66          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"She  does  n't  mind  us,"  put  in  Katherine. 

"Stop  teasing,"  commanded  Beatrice,  "and 
show  me  how  to  put  the  thing  together.  Which 
piece  goes  where?" 

Mrs.  Franklin  took  the  skirt  and  Katherine 
went  to  work  at  the  waist,  pinning  and  basting 
firmly,  so  that  there  could  be  no  mistake  in  the 
result.  Beatrice  leaned  lazily  against  the  side  of 
the  house  and  watched  them  admiringly,  praising 
their  skill  now  and  then  in  accents  suspiciously 
soft. 

"She's  been  taking  lessons  from  George,"  re 
marked  Mrs.  Franklin.  "That's  the  way  he  gets 
things  done." 

"Speaking  of  angels "  said  Katherine. 

Ronald  crossed  the  parade-ground  and  joined 
the  group.  "  What's  that  thing?"  he  asked,  con 
temptuously  indicating  the  pink  calico. 

"It's  clothes,"  replied  Beatrice,  with  spirit; 
"don't  you  wish  you  were  going  to  have  new 
ones?" 

The  Ensign's  answering  laugh  had  a  hollow 
sound  to  it,  for  the  shabby  clothing  at  Fort  Dear 
born  was  a  sore  spot  with  both  officers  and  men, 
even  though  new  and  proper  raiment  was  said  to 
be  on  the  way. 

"You  might  make  me  some,"  he  suggested, 


A  June  Day  167 

"and  I'll  promise  to  encourage  you  while  you  do 
it." 

"No,  thank  you,"  she  returned  loftily;  " you'd 
be  in  the  way." 

"I  expect  I'm  in  the  way  now,"  he  observed, 
making  himself  more  comfortable  against  the  pil 
lar  of  the  porch.  "When  needles  fly,  women's 
tongues  fly  faster;  when  women  sew,  they  rip 
their  husbands  to  pieces." 

A  faint  flush  came  into  Mrs.  Franklin's  face  as 
she  bent  over  her  work. 

"I'll  wager,  now,"  continued  Ronald,  "that 
when  you  saw  me  coming,  you  had  to  change  the 
subject.  Mrs.  Franklin  was  explaining  the  va 
garies  of  the  Captain,  Mrs.  Howard  was  telling 
what  she  was  obliged  to  put  up  with,  and  Miss 
Manning  was  talking  about  me." 

The  implication  sharpened  the  edge  of  the  girl's 
tongue.  "You  ought  to  be  very  glad  you're  not 
married,"  she  said  sweetly;  "and  it  goes  without 
saying  that  you  never  will  be.  Nobody  on 
earth  would  have  you!" 

"Don't  quarrel,  children,"  put  in  Katherine, 
hastily .  "Here  comes  Ralph . ' ' 

The  Lieutenant  sat  down  opposite  Ronald  and 
wiped  his  forehead.  "Lord'"  he  exclaimed, 
11  is  n't  it  hot!" 


1 68          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Get  a  little  closer  to  Miss  Manning,"  advised 
the  Ensign.  ' *  She 's  in  an  icy  mood  this  morning. ' ' 

Beatrice  and  Howard  smiled  at  each  other  un- 
derstandingly.  uBe  careful  what  you  say," 
warned  Mrs.  Franklin;  "they  Ve  decided  that 
they're  cousins." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Lieutenant,  "we've  got  it 
all  settled.  We're  step -cousins-in-law  once  re 
moved.  Want  to  go  for  a  ride,  Ronald?  For- 
syth  and  I  are  going  a  little  way  down  the  trail." 

"Which  trail?" 

"Fort  Wayne,  of  course." 

"Yes,  I'll  go,"  said  the  Ensign,  rising;  "it 
can't  be  any  hotter  on  horseback  than  it  is  here." 

When  the  three  men  rode  off,  Beatrice  pouted. 
"Why  did  n't  they  ask  me  to  go?" 

"I  guess  they're  going  swimmiiig,"  returned 
Mrs.  Franklin,  "for  Mr.  Forsyth  had  some 
towels." 

"  Here's  your  waist,"  said  Katherine;  " did  you 
shrink  the  goods?" 

"Did  I  what?" 

"Shrink  it.     Wash  it,  you  know." 

"  Indeed  I  did  n't.  Why  should  I  wash  it  when 
it's  new?" 

"Here  's  your  skirt,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin. 
"You'd  better  make  a  narrow  hem  and  run  a 


A  June  Day  169 

tuck  or  two  above  it  so  you  can  let  it  down.  I'm 
going  home  now,  because  Wallace  is  all  alone. 
Good-bye." 

Beatrice  went  to  work  gingerly,  and  Mrs.  How 
ard  watched  her  for  a  few  moments,  then  took 
pity.  "  I  '11  help  you,"  she  said,  "  I  have  nothing 
else  to  do." 

The  work  progressed  rapidly,  and  they  went 
into  the  house  frequently  to  fit  the  gown.  "  I  can 
wear  it  to-night,  I  believe,"  said  the  girl,  delight 
edly.  "  I  did  n't  know  sewing  was  so  easy!" 

"  Don't  be  too  hopeful — there's  lots  to  do  yet." 

Noon  came  on  apace  and  the  heat  increased. 
Shimmering  waves  hung  over  the  parade-ground 
and  vibrated  visibly.  There  was  not  a  tree  within 
the  enclosure  of  the  Fort,  and  the  flag  hung 
limply  from  the  staff,  stirring  only  when  the  hot 
wind  from  the  south-west  swept  over  the  sandy 
plains. 

Doctor  Norton  came  out,  looked  around  the 
deserted  Fort,  and  crossed  to  Lieutenant  How 
ard's. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Beatrice,  in 
dicating  an  Indian  basket  he  was  carrying. 

"I'm  going  to  the  woods — primarily,  to  find  a 
cool  place,  and,  secondarily,  to  gather  roots  and 
simples.  Some  of  my  medicines  have  given  out 


170          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

and  I  'm  going  to  make  a  new  supply  if  I  can  find 
the  proper  plants." 

Katherine  was  sewing  busily  and  took  no  part 
in  the  conversation,  but  there  was  a  scarlet  signal 
on  either  cheek. 

"  If  you  get  enough  of  anything,"  said  Beatrice, 
"the  poor  souls  under  your  care  can  have  some  of 
it,  can't  they?" 

"Certainly." 

"What  do  you  expect  to  get  around  here?" 

"Oh,  lots  of  things.  Wild  ginger,  for  instance 
— would  you  like  some  of  that?" 

"  Don't  care  for  it,"  she  answered  conclusively. 

"Would  you  like  a  concoction  of  May  apples?" 

"I  believe  I  would — it  sounds  well." 

"My  dear  girl,"  said  Norton,  seriously,  "the 
root  of  the  mandrake  is  such  a  deadly  poison  that 
the  Indians  give  it  to  their  enemies." 

"I  must  remember  that,"  murmured  the  girl. 
"  I  may  need  it  for  mine." 

The  Doctor  laughed,  then  turned  to  Mrs.  How 
ard.  "Are  you  well?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

Katherine's  eyes  met  his.  "Yes,"  she  an 
swered,  but  her  voice  was  scarcely  audible.  There 
was  an  uneasy  moment  for  both  of  them,  then  he 
went  away. 

Beatrice  took  up  her  sewing  again  and  saw  that 


A  June  Day  i;1 

Katherine's  hands  were  trembling.  "He  's  an 
abrupt  person,"  she  said;  "don't  you  think  so?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  other,  in  a  low  tone. 

"He's  lovable  in  a  way,  though,  don't  you 
think  so?  I  wonder  why  he  has  never  mar 
ried?" 

Katherine  started  and  her  lips  moved,  but  there 
was  no  sound.  Beatrice  looked  into  her  face  for 
an  illuminating  instant — then  she  knew. 

"Katherine!"  she  cried,  in  horror. 

Mrs.  Howard  dropped  her  work  and  fled  into  the 
house,  trying  to  lock  the  door,  but  the  girl  was  too 
quick  for  her. 

"Katherine,  dear!"  cried  Beatrice,  with  her 
arms  around  the  trembling  woman,  "don't  be 
afraid  of  me !  You  poor  child,  don't  you  know  a 
friend  when  you  see  one?" 

"  Friend?"  repeated  Katherine,  in  a  rush  of  un 
willing  tears ;  "I  have  none ! ' ' 

"Yes  you  have,  dear;  now  listen  to  me.  I'm 
your  friend,  and  there's  nothing  in  the  world  that 
could  make  me  anything  else.  Tell  me,  and  let 
me  help  you!" 

The  words  brought  back  the  memory  of  an 
other  day,  when  the  winter  snows  lay  deep  upon 
the  ground,  and  a  man's  voice,  dangerously  tender, 
said  the  same  thing. 


172          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"There's  nothing  wrong,  Bee — don't,  oh,  don't 
think  that  of  me ! ' ' 

"I  could  n't,  dear — no  one  could!" 

The  curtains  were  drawn  and  the  house  was 
dark  and  comparatively  cool.  Within  that  sooth 
ing  shadow,  Katherine  gathered  courage  to  face 
the  girl,  and,  little  by  little,  hint  at  the  tempest 
raging  in  her  soul. 

It  was  the  old,  common  story  of  a  proud  wo 
man  with  a  hungry  heart,  denied  love  and  sym 
pathy  where  she  had  a  right  to  expect  it,  and 
tempted  unwillingly,  but  tempted  none  the  less. 

"Men  are  beasts!"  exclaimed  Beatrice,  angrily. 

" Don't  say  that,  Bee!  Ralph  has  a  great  deal 
to  bother  him,  but  I  can't  help  wishing  he  were 
different.  If  he  were  only  as  he  used  to  be!  If 
I  knew,  or  even  thought  he  loved  me — if  he  would 
try  to  understand  me — if  he  would  n't  always 
misjudge  me — but  now " 

"You're  brave  enough  to  fight  it  out  and  win, 
Kit — I  know  you  are!" 

"  I  hope  so ;  but  what  hurts  me  most  is  the  fear 
that  he — that  he  knows — that  I — that  I  care — 
and  pities  me!" 

"Who?     Ralph?" 

"No— the—the " 

"I  understand,"  said  Beatrice,  quickly;   "you 


A  June  Day  173 

must  n't  let  him  know.  Besides,  you  don't  really 
care.  Women  often  mistake  loneliness  for  some 
thing  else — don't  you  think  so?" 

"  Perhaps.  Oh,  if  he  would  only  go  away, 
where  I  would  never  see  him  again— if  he  only 
would — sometime,  in  the  long  years,  things  would 
come  right  between  Ralph  and  me!" 

"  You'll  have  to  wait,  Kit.  Life  is  made  up  of 
waiting,  for  women,  and  it 's  the  hardest  thing  for 
us  to  do.  Oh,  I  know,"  continued  Beatrice,  with 
a  harsh  laugh;  "I  fought  something  out  myself 
once,  but  I  won.  It  was  hard,  but  I  did  it,  and 
I  'd  do  it  again — I  would  n't  be  coward  enough  to 
run  away.  When  things  hurt  you,  you  don't 
have  to  let  anybody  know.  You  can  shut  your 
lips  tight,  and  if  you  bite  your  tongue  hard  it 
keeps  back  the  tears.  I  always  pretend  I'm  a 
rock,  with  the  waves  beating  against  me.  Let  it 
hurt  inside,  if  it  wants  to — you  don't  have  to  let 
anybody  see!" 

The  girl's  fine  courage  insensibly  strengthened 
the  woman.  "  I  'm  so  glad  you  know,"  she  sighed. 

"I'm  glad,  too.  I'm  going  now,  Kit,  and  I 
wish  you'd  lie  down  a  little  while.  Don't  forget 
I'm  your  friend,  and  I'll  always  help  you  when  I 
can,  and  anyhow,  I'll  always  try." 

It  was  characteristic  of  Beatrice  that  she  went 


1 74          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

home  without  any  demonstrative  farewell.  She 
had  been  gentle,  sympathetic,  and  genuinely 
sorry  for  her  cousin,  but  there  was  an  inner  hard 
ness  somewhere  which  the  other  felt. 

Overwrought  by  emotion,  Katherine  slept  for 
hours,  and  when  she  awoke  a  cool  breeze  had  risen 
from  the  lake  and  was  moving  her  white  curtains 
to  and  fro.  Dull  sorrow  was  gnawing  at  her 
heart,  but  the  stab  was  gone. 

She  dressed  and  went  out,  without  any  particu 
lar  object  in  view.  The  loneliness  of  the  house 
depressed  her,  and  she  felt  that  she  must  get 
away  from  it ;  yet  she  did  not  wish  to  talk  to  any 
one. 

As  she  went  toward  the  gate  the  Captain's  wife 
met  her.  "  Where  are  you  going?"  she  asked. 

"To— to  the  little  lad,"  faltered  Katherine. 

"Oh,"  said  the  other,  quickly,  turning  away  as 
if  she  had  been  hurt.  For  a  moment  the  childless 
woman  envied  the  other  her  grave. 

Half  a  mile  from  the  Fort,  in  a  hollow  near  the 
river,  was  a  little  mound,  marked  only  by  a  rude 
slab  of  limestone  and  the  willow  that  grew  above 
it.  At  the  sight  of  it  her  eyes  filled. 

"Oh,  Baby,"  she  sobbed,  pressing  her  face 
against  the  cold  turf  above  him,  "  I  wish  I  was 
down  there  beside  you,  as  still  and  as  dreamless  as 


A  June  Day  175 

you !  You  don't  know  what  it  means — you  never 
would  have  known!  Oh,  I'd  rather  be  a  stone 
than  a  woman  with  a  heart!" 

"Katherine!"  cried  a  man's  voice  beside  her; 
"  Katherine!"  Norton's  arm  lifted  her  from  the 
grave  and  held  her  close.  "  Dear  heart,"  he  said, 
"is  the  world  unkind?" 

She  drew  away  from  him,  but  he  still  held  her 
cold  hand  in  his.  "  My  heart  aches  for  you,  Kath 
erine — can't  you  tell  me?" 

"  You  never  lost  a  child,"  she  whispered,  clutch 
ing  at  the  straw. 

"  That  is  true,  but  I  have  lost  far  more.  I " 

He  stopped  and  bit  his  lips  upon  the  words  that 
struggled  for  utterance.  "Come  away,"  he  said, 
gently. 

He  led  her  to  the  bank  of  the  stream,  where  they 
sat  down  under  a  tree.  She  leaned  against  it,  un 
conscious  that  he  still  held  her  hand. 

There  was  a  long  silence,  in  which  she  regained, 
in  some  measure,  her  self-control.  "I  can't 
think  what 's  wrong  with  me,"  she  sighed.  "  I've 
cried  more  in  the  last  six  months  than  in  all  my 
life  before.  I'm  not  the  crying  kind — naturally, 
that  is." 

"Don't  think  about  that,  for  nature  knows  a 
great  deal  more  than  we  do.  Cry  all  you  want  to, 


1 76          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

and  thank  God  you  have  no  grief  beyond  the 
reach  of  tears." 
"Beyond— tears?" 

"  Yes;  there  is  another  kind,  which  I  am  glad 
you  do  not  know.  It  cuts  and  burns  and  stings 
till  it  is  the  very  refinement  of  torture,  and  there 
is  no  veil  of  mist  to  blind  the  eyes." 

She  looked  at  him  curiously.     ' '  You ? ' ' 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  with  his  head  bowed; 
"  that  is  the  kind  of  grief  I  know  the  best." 

" I — I'm  sorry,"  she  said,  stirred  to  pity. 

"Why  should  you  be  sorry  for  me?"  he  asked, 
with  a  rare  smile.  "There  are  countless  joys  in 
the  world,  but  the  griefs  are  few  and  old.  The 
humblest  of  us  can  find  new  happiness,  but  there 
has  been  no  increase  of  sorrow  since  the  world  was 
first  made.  There  is  a  fixed  and  un variable  quan 
tity  of  it,  and  we  take  turns  bearing  it — that's  all. 
Nothing  comes  to  any  of  us  that  some  one  before 
us  has  not  met  like  a  soldier,  bravely  and  well." 

"You  are  strong,  but  I  have  no  strength." 

"There  are  different  kinds  of  strength,  Kather- 
ine,  and  of  these  the  one  most  to  be  prized  is  what 
we  call  endurance,  for  lack  of  a  better  word.  One 
can  always  bear  a  little  more,  for  we  live  only  one 
day  at  a  time,  and  to-morrow  may  bring  us  new 
gifts  of  which  we  do  not  dream." 


A  June  Day  177 

Lengthening  shadows  lay  on  the  river  and  the 
sun  hung  low  in  the  west,  but  they  talked  on. 
She  forgot  everything  but  the  peace  of  the  mo 
ment,  which  came  to  her  sore  heart  like  a  benedic 
tion.  Without  knowing  it,  she  was  very  near  to 
happiness  then. 

The  Doctor's  voice  was  soothing,  as  if  he  were 
talking  to  a  child,  and  she  did  not  dream  that  he 
was  fighting  the  exquisite  danger  of  her  nearness 
with  all  the  power  at  his  command.  At  last  she 
leaned  forward  with  her  eyes  shining,  and  put  her 
hand  on  his.  "  Thank  you,"  she  said,  softly,  "  for 
helping  me!" 

The  man's  blood  leaped  in  his  veins,  and  he 
sprang  to  his  feet.  He  walked  back  and  forth  on 
the  bank  of  the  river  for  some  time  before  he 
dared  trust  himself  to  speak. 

"Your  happiness  is  very  near  to  me,"  he  said, 
trying  hard  to  keep  his  voice  even,  "you  must 
always  remember  that.  And  for  me,  it  is  enough 
to  be  near  you,  even  if " 

She  stretched  out  her  hands  and  he  lifted  her  to 
her  feet.  "  I  must  go,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  you  must  go,  and  go  alone.  I  will  stay 
here  until  you  have  had  time  to  get  back." 

The  deference  to  circumstances  jarred  upon  her 
and  she  did  not  answer.  Her  hat  was  lying  by  the 


i78          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

child's  grave,  and  as  he  picked  it  up  for  her,  she 
said:  "Why,  there  are  violets  all  around.  I 
never  saw  those  before." 

"Did  n't  you?"  he  asked  diffidently;  "I 
thought  you  came  often." 

"  No,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "not  very  often. 
Who  put  them  there?" 

He  lowered  his  eyes  at  her  question,  and  then 
she  understood.  "Did  you  plant  flowers  on  my 
baby's  grave?"  she  cried. 

There  was  a  tense  moment  before  he  dared  to 
look  at  her.  "Yes,"  he  answered,  slowly,  "be 
cause " 

They  were  standing  face  to  face,  with  the  little 
grave  between  them,  and  the  woman's  heart  quiv 
ered  with  a  strange  and  terrible  joy.  There  was 
no  need  of  words,  for,  all  at  once,  she  knew  why, 
during  the  four  years  of  her  marriage,  he  had  fol 
lowed  her  from  one  post  to  another.  She  saw  a 
new  meaning  in  his  sympathy  when  the  little  lad 
died  and  her  husband  blamed  her  so  bitterly; 
moreover,  she  knew  that  her  battle  was  with  her 
self,  not  him,  for  the  unyielding  edge  of  Honour 
lay  between  them,  and,  even  if  she  would,  he 
would  not  let  her  cross. 

For  his  part  he,  too,  was  uplifted,  because  with 
out  words  she  understood,  and  answered  with 


A  June  Day  1 79 

love  in  her  eyes.  Undisguised  and  unashamed, 
her  heart  leaped  toward  him,  but  he  stood  with 
his  hands  clenched  so  tightly  that  the  nails  cut 
deep  into  the  flesh. 

Neither  had  heard  nor  seen,  but  she  felt  an 
alien  presence,  and  turned.  Not  six  feet  away 
from  them  stood  Lieutenant  Howard,  with  his 
face  ashen  grey.  He  had  an  armful  of  flowers — 
purple  flags  and  yellow  lilies  from  the  marsh  and 
clover  from  the  fields. 

When  he  knew  that  she  saw  him,  he  came  to  the 
grave,  stooped,  and  put  the  flowers  upon  it.  The 
Doctor  stepped  back,  but  Howard  took  no  note  of 
him  whatever.  "  It  is  a  strange  place  for  a  tryst, ' ' 
he  said,  with  forced  calmness.  "Katherine,  will 
you  come  home?" 

They  went  all  the  way  to  the  Fort  without 
speaking,  and  when  they  reached  their  own 
house,  he  stood  aside  for  her  to  enter,  then  followed 
her  in  and  locked  the  door. 

Trembling  with  weakness,  he  sat  down  and 
drew  her  toward  him.  "Katherine,  have  you 
anything  to  say  to  me?" 

Strangely  enough,  she  was  not  afraid,  and  the 
terrible  joy  was  still  surging  in  her  heart. 

"  Only  this,  Ralph — that  you  have  wronged  me 
and  misjudged  me;  but  you  know  this — that  I 


i8o          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

never  told  you  a  lie  in  my  life.  As  long  as  I  bear 
your  name  I  will  bear  it  rightly ;  while  I  call  my 
self  your  wife,  you  may  know  that  I  am  faithful 
to  you  and  to  myself.  That  is  all  I  have  to  say, 
but  for  your  sake  and  my  own — and  for  the  little 
lad's  sake — be  just  a  little  kind  to  me!" 

Her  voice  broke  at  the  last  words,  but  he  rushed 
past  her  and  went  out.  From  the  window  of  her 
room  she  saw  him  pacing  back  and  forth  on  the 
plains  beyond  the  Fort,  fighting  his  battle  with 
himself.  She  knew  she  had  hurt  him  past  all 
healing  and  pitied  him  subconsciously ;  the  dom 
inant  knowledge  warred  with  her  instincts. 

When  he  came  in  to  supper,  his  face  was  still 
pale,  but  his  voice  was  even  and  controlled.  He 
ate  but  little,  and  they  talked  commonplaces  until 
afterward. 

"Katherine,"  he  said,  "I  remove  the  embargo; 
you  may  have — him — or  any  of  your  other  friends 
at  the  house  as  often  as  you  please.  I  will  not 
force  my  wife  to  make  clandestine  appointments 
outside ! "  He  laughed  harshly  and  went  out,  but, 
though  she  waited  for  him  till  long  past  mid 
night,  he  did  not  return. 

For  her  there  was  no  rest.  Pity,  shame,  fear, 
pride,  and  ecstasy  struggled  for  mastery  in  her 
soul.  The  sound  of  moving  waters  murmured 


A  June  Day 


181 


through  the  night  with  insistent  repetition  as  the 
waves  came  to  the  shore.  In  the  dark  hours  be 
fore  dawn  she  saw  a  man,  indistinctly,  walking  on 
the  prairie,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  him 
and  his  head  bowed. 

At  first  she  thought  it  was  Ralph,  but,  strain 
ing  her  eyes  through  the  darkness,  she  saw  that  it 
was  the  other,  and  her  heart  beat  hard  with  pain. 

"Dear  God,"  she  murmured  brokenly,  "oh, 
give  him  peace,  and  help  me  to  be  true  I " 


CHAPTER  XII 

IN  THE    NORTH    WOODS 

on,  Doc,"  said  Ronald. 
' '  Where  ? ' '  asked  Norton,  lazily. 

"Across  the  river,  of  course;  don't  you  see 
the  mob  over  there?" 

The  large  yard  in  front  of  the  Mackenzie  house 
was  fairly  well  filled  with  people  when  they  arrived. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mackenzie,  Forsyth,  Chandonnais, 
Lieutenant  and  Mrs.  Howard,  and  Mrs.  Franklin 
were  standing  behind  Beatrice,  who  was  painting 
in  water  colours.  Black  Partridge,  in  all  the 
glory  of  his  feather  head-dress  and  his  most  gor 
geous  blanket,  was  posing  for  his  picture.  The 
chief  endeavoured  to  preserve  the  appearance  of 
calm,  but  in  reality  he  was  greatly  excited. 

Doctor  Norton  and  the  Lieutenant  exchanged 
cool  salutations,  and  Katherine  was  scarcely  more 
cordial.  All  three  of  them  had  decided  to  ignore 
past  events,  but  there  was  an  element  of  difficulty 
in  the  situation,  none  the  less. 

182 


In  the  North  Woods  183 

"  How  do  you  suppose  Birdie  can  wear  a  blanket 
in  July  ? ' '  asked  Ronald.  ' '  I  should  think  he  'd  be 
roasted  to  a  turn." 

"It's  his  best  blanket,"  explained  Beatrice, 
selecting  another  brush,  "and  he  wants  it  in  his 
picture." 

"I'd  rather  my  clothes  would  be  painted 
separately  on  a  day  like  this,"  murmured  Ron 
ald. 

"  I  did  n't  know  you  had  more  than  one  suit," 
remarked  the  artist,  with  a  flourish  of  her  brush ; 
"  you  can't  properly  say  '  clothes,' ' 

"Well,  'cloY  then,"  retorted  the  Ensign,  "if  it 
suits  you  better;  but  some  day  you'll  see  me  in 
a  brand-new  uniform." 

"It's  what  I'm  living  for,"  answered  Beatrice. 
"Somebody  get  me  some  more  water." 

A  dozen  hands  were  outstretched,  but  it  was 
Forsyth  who  secured  the  cup,  and  he  was  rewarded 
with  a  radiant  smile  when  he  returned. 

"Ain't  that  smart,  now!"  exclaimed  the  trader, 
delightedly,  as  the  unmistakable  features  of  Black 
Partridge  appeared  upon  the  paper.  -Chandon- 
nais  was  grinning  broadly,  and  even  Ronald  and 
the  Lieutenant  condescended  to  praise. 

" To  think  that  we've  had  a  real  artist  here  for 
months  and  never  knew  it!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 


1 84  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Franklin.     "Why  did  n't  you  let  us  know  about 
it  before?" 

"Because,"  answered  the  girl,  "as  an  old  lady 
at  Fort  Mackinac  would  have  said,  I  did  n't  '  feel 
to  paint." 

Mrs.  Mackenzie  was  restraining  the  children 
with  difficulty,  for  each  and  every  one  of  them 
yearned  to  take  a  brush  and  assist  in  the  delicate 
task.  At  last  she  took  the  baby  and  went  into  the 
house,  leaving  Maria  Indiana  to  Katherine,  and 
the  two  older  children  to  their  father  and  Forsyth. 

"There,"  said  Beatrice,  with  a  critical  squint  at 
her  work;  "it's  almost  done." 

Against  a  background  of  delicate  green,  the 
Indian,  in  his  scarlet  blanket,  stood  boldly  and 
properly  pictured.  The  colouring  was  very  good 
and  she  had  caught  the  spirit  of  the  pose. 

"Let  me  show  it  to  him,"  suggested  Robert. 

She  was  wiping  her  brushes  and  did  not  see  the 
expression  of  dismay  on  the  chief's  face  when  he 
beheld  his  counterfeit  presentment,  but  she  saw 
him  snatch  the  picture  out  of  Robert's  hand  and 
heard  his  indistinct  mutterings  when  he  fled  like 
a  deer. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that ! "  she  gasped. 
"What  was  he  saying,  Uncle  John?" 

"I  did  n't  catch  it,  Bee— did  you,  Rob?" 


In  the  North  Woods  185 

Forsyth  had  made  a  little  progress  in  the  lan 
guage,  but  had  understood  only  a  word  or  two. 
"It  was  something  about  the  'Great  Spirit,'  I 
think,  but  I  did  n't  get  the  connection." 

"  That 's  gone,  anyhow,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  You 
meant  it  for  him,  did  n't  you?" 

"Why,  yes,  eventually;  but  it  was  n't  done." 

"It  was  done  enough  for  him,  evidently,"  ob 
served  Ronald;  "he  seems  to  prefer  his  pictures 
a  little  rare.  Are  you  ready  to  make  mine 
now?" 

"Indeed,  I'm  not  going  to  paint  you.  I'm 
going  in  to  help  Aunt  Eleanor." 

Mrs.  Howard  followed  her.  The  Doctor  offered 
to  row  Mrs.  Franklin  across  the  river,  Chan  dis 
appeared,  and  the  Lieutenant  went  over  to  the 
Agency  House  with  Mackenzie.  Ronald  looked 
at  Forsyth  and  laughed. 

"Everybody's  moving,"  he  said.  "Let's  go 
over  and  get  Major  and  go  swimming." 

"You  go  after  Major,"  suggested  Robert,  "and 
I'll  get  some  towels  of  Aunt  Eleanor.  We'll  go 
up  north." 

Ronald  embarked  in  a  pirogue  and  Forsyth 
went  into  the  house.  "  I  don't  see  where  it 's  gone 
to,"  Mrs.  Mackenzie  was  saying.  "Are  you  sure 
you  have  n't  it,  Katherine?" 


1 86          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"  What  have  you  lost,  Aunt  Eleanor? "  he  asked. 

"Why,  my  blue-and-white  patchwork  quilt — a 
white  one  with  blue  stars  in  it.  It  was  washed  and 
put  away  clean  last  Fall,  and  now  it's  gone." 

Beatrice  was  looking  at  him  in  a  way  that 
puzzled  him.  "I'm  sure  I  haven't  seen  it,"  he 
hastened  to  say.  "Am  I  suspected?" 

"Of  course  not,"  returned  Mrs.  Mackenzie; 
"but  it's  a  strange  thing  to  happen  right  here  in 
the  house.  I  wish  you'd  go  up  to  the  loft  and  see 
if  it's  on  Chan's  bed — he  may  have  taken  it  by 
mistake." 

Forsyth  climbed  the  ladder  to  the  empty  loft, 
but  no  quilt  was  to  be  seen.  The  rude  shake 
down  on  which  the  half-breed  slept  had  only 
blankets  for  covering.  He  looked  around  curi 
ously,  for  he  had  never  been  in  the  loft  before,  but 
he  did  not  envy  Chan  his  quarters.  There  was 
only  one  window  in  the  desolate  place,  and  that 
scarcely  deserved  the  name,  for  it  was  merely  a 
small  aperture  in  the  front  of  the  house.  The 
floor  was  comparatively  clean,  but  there  was  a 
pile  of  rubbish  in  one  corner,  which  he  promptly 
investigated.  He  had  hardly  expected  to  find  the 
quilt,  but  he  was  surprised  when  he  discovered  a 
ham,  a  side  of  bacon,  and  a  large  piece  of  dark 
blue  calico  hidden  under  the  nondescript  heap. 


In  the  North  Woods  187 

"  I  expect  he  gets  hungry  in  the  night,"  thought 
Robert,  remembering  Chan's  ferocious  appetite. 

"No  quilt  there,  Aunt  Eleanor,"  he  said,  when 
he  went  down.  " May  I  have  some  towels?" 

"The  Indians  must  have  taken  it,"  she  sighed, 
"but  I  don't  know  when  nor  how." 

Beatrice  was  in  a  brown  study,  but  Robert,  even 
though  he  was  gifted  with  rather  more  than  the 
average  man's  discernment,  did  not  know  what 
she  was  thinking  about.  Remembering  the  con 
versation  he  had  overheard  the  night  of  the  bar 
becue,  he  had  thought  it  likely  that  the  cross  over 
the  door  of  the  house  in  the  woods  had  been  stolen 
from  the  half-breed  by  an  Indian,  or  else,  after  the 
manner  of  others  somewhat  higher  in  the  social 
scale,  Chan  had  taken  unto  himself  an  Indian  wife. 

Except  as  it  concerned  Beatrice,  the  matter  did 
not  interest  him,  and  he  forbore  to  tell  her  what 
he  knew,  lest  the  "secret"  between  them  should 
come  to  an  end.  Her  curiosity  about  the  mys 
terious  cabin  had  increased  rather  than  dimin 
ished;  but  Robert  had  refused  to  go  with  her 
when  she  wanted  to  investigate  it  again,  and  she 
did  not  quite  dare  to  go  alone. 

Ronald  was  waiting  for  him  outside,  and  the 
dog  trotted  along  beside  them  in  high  spirits, 
lavishing  moist  caresses  upon  his  master,  and 


1 88  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

punctuating  his  expressions  of  affection  with  ex 
uberant  barks. 

"Down,  Major,  down!"  commanded  Ronald, 
"or  I'll  throw  you  into  the  lake." 

The  shadowy  coolness  of  the  woods  was  in 
vigorating,  and  they  walked  on,  heedless  of  the 
distance.  "When  we  find  a  deep  place,"  said 
Forsyth,  "we'll  dive  into  it  from  the  bluff." 

"No  we  won't,"  returned  Ronald,  conclusively. 
"I  knew  a  fool  once  who  broke  his  neck  in  just 
that  way.  No  loss  to  the  world  particularly,  but 
unpleasant.  They'd  miss  us  mightily  at  the 
Fort." 

When  Robert  saw  that  they  were  approaching 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  cabin,  he  said  that  he 
was  tired. 

"So'm  I,"  answered  the  other.  "Let's  sit 
down  and  get  cooled  off  before  we  go  in." 

Major  was  far  ahead,  ranging  back  and  forth 
eagerly  in  pursuit  of  some  small  animal  that  had 
escaped  him.  "Something  has  happened,"  con 
tinued  Ronald ;  * '  guess ! ' ' 

"  Could  n't  guess— what  is  it?" 

"That's  right,"  laughed  the  Ensign,  slapping 
his  knee;  "nobody  could  guess.  We've  actually 
got  our  new  uniforms!" 

"  You  don't  say  so !     Where  are  they  ? " 


In  the  North  Woods  189 

"At  Fort  Wayne." 

"Oh,  you  have  n't  got  them,  then?" 

"No,  but  we've  almost  got  'em.  Some  of  the 
boys  are  going  this  week  sometime,  as  soon  as 
the  Captain  can  make  up  his  mind  to  send  'em.  I 
wish  I  could  go,  too,  but  they'll  need  nearly  all 
the  horses — fifty-eight  new  uniforms,  you  know. 
I've  thought  seriously  of  borrowing  Miss  Man 
ning's  horse  and  taking  the  trip — I  need  a  change." 

"She  would  n't  let  you  have  it." 

"  I  had  n't  intended  to  ask  her,"  explained  Ron 
ald.  "Lord,  but  she  'd  be  mad!  I'd  give  a 
pretty  penny  to  see  her  when  she  found  out  I'd 
done  it !  I  'd  really  rather  see  her  good  and  mad 
than  to  take  the  trip,  but  I  can't  do  both.  If  I 
have  one  pleasure,  you'll  have  the  other." 

"I'd  rather  not,  thank  you — I'd  much  prefer 
to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the  storm.  I  hope  you 
won't  do  it." 

"Well,  I'm  not  going  to,"  said  the  Ensign; 
"at  least,  I  don't  think  I  am.  I'm  more  or  less 
subject  to  impulses,  however." 

A  shrill  feminine  scream  brought  both  men  to 
their  feet.  "  What  was  that?"  cried  Forsyth. 

Major  came  toward  them  from  the  north,  on  a 
dead  run,  with  his  tail  between  his  legs  and  pant 
ing  for  breath.  "What's  the  matter,  old  boy?" 


igo          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

shouted  Ronald.     The  dog  took  shelter  behind 
his  master,  trembling  violently. 

"  He  is  n't  hurt,"  said  the  Ensign,  after  looking 
him  over  carefully,  "he's  just  scared.  Do  you 
think  we'd  better  go  up  and  see  what's  wrong?" 

"No,"  answered  Forsyth;  "everything  is  quiet 
now.  Major  probably  got  into  trouble  with  a 
squaw.  It  was  a  woman's  scream." 

"Maybe  so,"  assented  Ronald,  sitting  down 
again.  "Anyhow,  it  was  none  of  the  women  at 
the  Fort,  and  I'm  in  favour  of  letting  the  Indians 
fight  their  own  battles." 

The  dog,  still  frightened,  insisted  on  lying  un 
comfortably  close  to  his  master.     "Move  over  a 
bit,  Major,"  he  suggested;   "you're  too  warm  to 
sit  by." 

"He's  all  right,"  laughed  Forsyth,  as  the  dog 
refused  to  move ;  "let  him  alone." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Ronald,  after  a  silence, 
"that  scream  sounded  like  Mad  Margaret's  voice. 
Don't  you  think  so?" 

"Perhaps,  now  that  you  speak  of  it;  but  I 
have  n't  seen  her  for  a  long  time." 

"  Neither  have  I,  and  I  don't  want  to.  Do  you 
remember  the  night  you  came?" 

Forsyth  nodded. 

"  I  can't  get  that  out  of  my  head — the  way  she 


In  the  North  Woods  191 

looked  at  me  when  she  told  me  I  should  never  have 
my  heart's  desire.  Someway,  it  sticks." 

"You're  not  superstitious,  are  you?" 

"Not  exactly,  but  it  was  rather  uncanny,  if 
you  remember, — at  least  it  would  have  seemed  so 
if  she  had  said  it  to  you." 

"That's  true,"  admitted  Robert. 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  anything  in  this  world,"  re 
sumed  the  Ensign;  "but  I  don't  want  to  tackle 
the  next  before  I  get  to  it — if  there  is  any  next." 

"What  do  you  think  about  the  next  world, 
anyway?" 

"Well,"  answered  Ronald,  seriously,  "I  don't 
think  much  about  it,  and  that's  a  fact.  Nobody 
knows  any  more  about  it  than  anybody  else,  and 
I  don't  see  why  one  man's  opinion  is  n't  as  good 
as  another's.  Personally,  I  have  always  felt  that 
if  I  was  decent  and  honest  and  minded  my  own 
business,  I  'd  get  my  share  of  anything  good  that 
night  be  coming  after  I  got  through  here.  Ac 
tions,  to  my  mind,  are  a  good  deal  more  important 
than  beliefs." 

" That's  so,  too,  but  I 've  learned  to  keep  pretty 
still  about  those  things,  for  I've  been  accused 
more  than  once  of  too  much  liberality." 

"The  chaplain  at  West  Point  was  a  nice  old 
fellow,  and  he  used  to  tell  us  that  if  we  were  good 


i92          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

soldiers  and  abided  by  the  army  regulations,  we 
would  n't  get  into  trouble  after  we  died.  I  've 
always  remembered  it  and  I've  marched  by  it 
ever  since." 

" Let's  go  in  now,"  suggested  the  other,  after  a 
long  silence. 

"All  right — come  on,  Major!" 

The  sun  was  shining  brightly  on  the  water,  and 
the  dog  barked  joyously  as  they  plunged  in. 
"Keep  him  here,"  said  Ronald,  "I'm  going  on 
out."  Robert  watched  him  enviously  as  he  swam 
north-east  with  a  long,  free  stroke,  until  he  was 
almost  out  of  sight.  The  dog  was  eager  to  be 
after  him,  and,  having  no  collar,  was  not  easily 
controlled.  When  he  came  back,  aglow  with  life, 
it  seemed  to  the  other  that  he  had  the  clean 
limbed  beauty  of  a  young  Greek  god. 

"You  go  now,"  shouted  Ronald,  "and  I'll 
amuse  the  pup." 

Forsyth  swam  straight  out,  with  an  exultant 
sense  of  power  in  breasting  the  waves,  and  his 
pulses  thrilled  with  something  so  vital,  keen,  and 
elemental  that  it  seemed  as  if  he  could  go  on  for 
ever.  When  he  turned  back,  he  saw  the  gleam 
of  light  far  to  the  northward,  where  the  sun  shone 
on  the  cross,  and  thought  of  Beatrice,  happily, 
and  of  the  day  in  the  woods.  He  was  well  in 


In  the  North  Woods  193 

toward  shore  when  his  muscles  suddenly  lost 
their  strength — as  if  he  had  forgotten  howT  to 
swim.  He  called  once,  but  faintly,  then  unutter 
able  darkness  surrounded  him. 

When  he  came  to  his  senses  he  was  lying  on  the 
sand,  and  Ronald  was  rolling  him  over  and  over 
and  pounding  him  vigorously.  A  whine  sounded 
indistinct  and  far,  as  if  it  were  leagues  away,  even 
while  the  dog  was  licking  his  face. 

"My  God,  man,"  said  the  Ensign,  with  white 
lips,  "I'd  almost  given  you  up!" 

The  voice  beat  painfully  upon  his  ears  and  his 
senses  were  confused,  but  he  tried  to  sit  up. 
"What  was  the  matter?"  he  gasped. 

"Cramps,  I  guess — that's  the  usual  thing. 
We'd  better  have  let  Major  drown  and  gone  out 
together.  I  had  a  nice  time  getting  both  of  you 
back  to  shore." 

Ronald  continued  his  violent  treatment  until 
the  other  protested.  "Don't  hit  me  again,"  he 
said  faintly,  "I'm  all  right!" 

"Pile  into  your  clothes,  then,  or  you'll  take 
cold." 

He  obeyed,  but  slowly,  for  he  was  thoroughly 
exhausted  and  movement  was  difficult.  Ronald 
was  dressed  long  before  he  was,  and  insisted  upon 

helping  him. 
13 


194          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

1  'There,  now  you're  fixed,"  he  said,  at  length; 
"and  if  you're  good  for  it,  we'll  go  back  to  the 
bank  and  sit  down  a  bit.  There 's  no  hurry  about 
going  home." 

Forsyth  was  faint  when  they  reached  the  tall 
tree  they  had  started  from,  and  was  more  than 
willing  to  rest.  His  speech  was  still  thick,  but  he 
stammered  his  thanks. 

4 'You  owe  it  to  Major,"  explained  Ronald,  dif 
fidently,  "for  I  never  would  have  seen  you.  He 
started  out,  all  of  a  sudden,  and  I  went  after  him. 
Of  course  I  wondered  what  had  happened  when  I 
did  n't  see  you,  but  I  thought  you  were  swimming 
under  w^ater.  He  found  you,  though.  Good  old 
boy,"  he  added,  patting  the  dog. 

"  I'm  much  obliged  to  both  of  you,"  said  Robert 
weakly.  "  I  've  been  in  the  water  more  or  less  all 
my  life,  and  nothing  like  that  ever  happened  to 
me  before." 

"Hope  it  won't  again — the  first  time  came 
mighty  near  being  the  last." 

Forsyth  had  more  strength  than  he  appeared  to 
have,  but  the  shock  was  severe.  "  There 's  no  hur 
ry,"  said  George,  "  and  we  won't  go  back  till  you  're 
ready  for  a  long  walk.  Say,  how  did  you  feel?" 

"Why,  I  don't  know  exactly.  I  was  all  right, 
and  I  was  thinking  what  a  glorious  swim  I  was 


In  the  North  Woods  195 

having  and  how  fine  the  water  was,  when  all  at 
once  I  could  n't  move,  and  everything  was  black. 
I  think  I  called  you,  though." 

"  Did  n't  hear  you,  but  I  guess  the  dog  did. 
Queer,  is  n't  it,  that  it  should  come  just  after  we 
had  been  talking  about  death  and  the  hereafter 
and  so  on?" 

"  Perhaps  it  was  a  warning." 

''You're  superstitious,  now,"  returned  Ronald; 
"but  there's  no  getting  out  of  it — when  we  get 
near  the  jumping-off  place  it  makes  us  feel  devil 
ish  queer.  I  was  nearly  crazy  when  I  got  you  to 
shore  and  found  you  were  dead — the  thing  came 
so  quick,  why,  it  was  like  a  stroke  of  lightning." 

"If  that's  death,  though,  it's  nothing  to  be 
afraid  of.  Everything  was  black  and  soft,  and 
there  was  no  hurt  to  it — just  a  stop." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  the  Ensign,  "I've  never 
seen  very  many  dead  people,  and  I  've  never  seen 
anybody  who  had  been  killed  in  an  accident — 
suddenly,  you  know.  Those  fellows  up  at  Lee's 
were  the  nearest  to  it,  but  I  didn't  see  them." 
His  face  whitened  and  his  hands  clenched  in 
stinctively.  "  God !  "  he  breathed,  between  his  set 
teeth,  "  I  hope  I'll  be  spared  a  death  like  that,  at 
the  hands  of  the  red  devils.  I  want  to  die  like  a 
soldier — in  battle!" 


196          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Come,"  said  Forsyth,  smiling,  "we're  getting 
serious — let's  go  back." 

"Do  you  feel  all  right?" 

"  Yes ;  I  'm  a  little  shaky,  but  I  guess  I  'm  good 
for  it.  Don't  say  anything  about  it  at  the  Fort, 
nor  anywhere  else — the  women  would  make  a 
great  row." 

"As  you  say — it's  your  business,  you  know." 

In  spite  of  Forsyth' s  valiant  efforts,  his  pro 
gress  was  slow.  "I'm  as  weak  as  a  woman,"  he 
complained,  when  he  was  forced  to  stop  and  rest 
for  the  fourth  time. 

"You'll  make  it  all  right,"  said  the  other, 
cheerily;  "take  your  time.  And  say,  when  we 
get  back,  come  on  over  to  the  Fort  and  get  a  good 
stiff  drink  of  whisky — that  will  set  you  on  your 
pegs  as  quickly  as  anything." 

When  they  came  to  the  river  Forsyth  sat  down 
and  waited  until  Ronald  went  down  to  Macken 
zie's,  got  a  pirogue,  and  came  up  after  him. 
"  Did  n't  see  anybody,"  said  Ronald,  in  answer  to 
a  question,  "  and  it 's  just  as  well.  You  're  pretty 
white  around  the  gills  yet." 

"Steady,"  he  continued,  as  the  boat  grazed  the 
shore,  "  and  in  ten  minutes  you'll  be  a  new  man." 

Mrs.  Franklin  and  Mrs.  Howard  were  playing 
battledore  on  the  parade-ground,  while  Beatrice 


In  the  North  Woods  197 

and  the  Lieutenant  watched  them  from  the  piazza. 
Captain  Franklin,  Mackenzie,  and  a  couple  of 
Indians  were  standing  in  front  of  the  Captain's 
quarters,  and  Ronald  yearned  to  join  the  group 
and  see  what  was  going  on.  He  gave  Robert  his 
flask,  bade  him  take  it  slowly,  and  rushed  out. 

The  Indians  were  just  leaving,  and  Captain 
Franklin  had  started  back  to  the  house,  when  one 
of  them  turned  back  and  said  something. 

"What  did  he  say?"  he  asked  of  Mackenzie. 

"Nothing,"  replied  the  trader,  with  the  dull 
colour  bronzing  his  face;  "they  ain't  our  folks, 
you  know." 

"  I  insist  upon  knowing,"  said  Franklin,  peremp 
torily. 

Mackenzie  came  nearer  and  lowered  his  voice  to 
a  whisper.  "  He  said  something  about  the  women 
over  there," — indicating  Mrs.  Franklin  and  Mrs. 
Howard.  "He  said  'the  white  chief's  wives  are 
amusing  themselves  very  much.  It  will  not  be 
long  before  they  are  hoeing  in  our  corn-fields.' ' 

"Humph!"  snorted  the  Captain. 

"Oh!"  laughed  Ronald,  "I  must  tell  'em!" 

"Shut  up,"  said  the  Captain;  "you  will  do  no 
such  thing!" 

"All  right,"  returned  the  younger  officer,  good 
humouredly,  "they're  not  my  wives!" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

GIFTS 

COUSIN     Rob,"  said    Beatrice,    the   next 
morning,    "I   think    you're    dreadfully 
stupid." 

"Why?" 

"  Because — yesterday,  you  know." 

"  You  're  indefinite." 

"Why,  when  Aunt  Eleanor  was  telling  about 
the  quilt  that  was  stolen — a  white  quilt,  with  blue 
stars — you  did  n't  know  where  it  was." 

"Did  you?" 

"Of  course  I  did — it's  in  the  little  house  in  the 
woods." 

"I  wasn't  in  the  house,  Bee — you  told  me 
about  it,  but  I  did  n't  see  it." 

"Well,  anyhow,  you  should  have  known,"  she 
concluded,  with  truly  feminine  inconsistency. 

"  Perhaps,"  smiled  Robert ;  "  but  I  'd  rather  not 
know,  and  then  there  'd  be  an  excuse  for  your 
telling  me." 

198 


Gifts  199 

A  faint  colour  came  into  the  girl's  cheeks.  "  I 
had  an  awful  dream  about  you  last  night,"  she 
said,  in  a  low  tone ;  "  I  dreamed  you  were  drowned 
in  the  lake." 

Robert  started,  but  managed  to  control  his 
voice.  "I'm  not  drowned,"  he  answered,  with 
apparent  lightness ;  but  he  was  wondering  whether 
Ronald  had  broken  his  promise.  Still,  no  one  had 
crossed  the  river,  from  either  side,  since  the  ac 
cident — he  was  sure  of  that. 

"Be  careful,  won't  you?"  Beatrice  pleaded 
earnestly. 

"Certainly — but  would  you  care?" 

All  the  rosy  tints  faded  from  her  face  and  the 
mist  came  into  her  eyes.  Her  "  yes  "  was  scarcely 
audible,  but  it  moved  the  man  strangely.  "I'd 
do  anything  to  please  you,  my  dear — cousin," 
he  said  tenderly. 

"  Quarrelling? "  asked  Mackenzie,  from  the  door 
way. 

"  Not  this  time,"  laughed  the  girl. 

"I've  got  something  to  tell  you,  Bee.  Black 
Partridge  was  here  early  this  morning,  long  before 
you  were  up,  and  apologised  for  running  off  with 
the  picture — that  is,  as  nearly  as  an  Indian  ever 
apologises.  From  what  he  said,  I  infer  that  he 
thinks  the  Great  Spirit  dwells  in  you,  but  he  is 


200          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

willing  for  you  to  finish  it.  The  medicine-man 
of  the  tribe  told  him  good  would  come  from 
it,  rather  than  evil,  so  he  left  it  here  to  be 
completed." 

"All  right,"  she  answered;  " I'll  go  to  work  at 
it  now  and  try  to  get  it  done  before  he  changes 
his  mind  again." 

Robert  brought  the  picture  and  her  paints,  and 
they  sat  down  together  on  the  piazza  while  she 
added  the  finishing  touches.  "  Could  n't  we  make 
a  frame  for  it?"  asked  Robert. 

" What  could  we  make  it  of?" 

"He'd  prefer  beads,  would  n't  he?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  she  said,  with  a  puzzled 
little  frown;  "but  I  don't  know  how  to  make  a 
bead  frame." 

"  I  should  think  a  plain  wooden  frame  might  be 
whittled  out,  smeared  with  pitch  or  rosin,  and  the 
beads  stuck  on  while  it  was  hot." 

"You're  a  genius,  Cousin  Rob.  Get  the  beads 
of  uncle  and  make  it  while  I'm  finishing  the 
picture." 

Mackenzie  willingly  placed  his  stock  at  their 
service,  and,  after  taking  careful  measurements, 
Forsyth  found  a  piece  of  soft  pine  and  made  a 
narrow,  flat  frame.  Beatrice  finished  her  work 
in  time  to  help  set  the  beads  in  the  rosin,  and 


Gifts  201 

Mackenzie  and  his  wife  came  out  to  admire  the 
result. 

The  picture  was  framed  to  their  satisfaction 
when  Black  Partridge,  somewhat  shamefaced,  ap 
peared  at  the  trading  station.  He  took  it  with 
every  evidence  of  delight  and  made  a  long  speech 
to  Mackenzie,  of  which  Robert  understood  only  a 
little. 

"What  does  he  say?"  asked  Beatrice,  impa 
tiently. 

"He  says  he  is  very  thankful  and  very  grateful 
and  much  pleased,  and  that  as  long  as  he  lives 
neither  of  you  shall  ever  want  for  a  friend.  He 
says  while  the  sun  rises  and  sets  and  the  stars 
move  in  their  courses,  Black  Partridge  will  be  the 
faithful  friend  of  the  paleface  and  her  lover." 

Robert  was  much  embarrassed,  but  Beatrice 
only  laughed.  "Tell  him  he  is  very  welcome," 
she  said,  "  and  that  when  we  need  a  friend  we  will 
not  hesitate  to  call  upon  Black  Partridge." 

The  speech  was  duly  repeated,  with  additional 
assurances  which  Mackenzie  knew  would  please 
the  chief,  and  the  visit  was  ended  with  much 
ceremony. 

Ronald  was  coming  across  the  river,  and  Bea 
trice  lingered  upon  the  piazza  until  he  opened  the 
gate,  when  she  gathered  up  her  paints  and  went 


202 


The  Shadow  of  Victory 


into  the  house  without  a  word  of  greeting.  There 
was  a  shade  of  annoyance  in  the  Ensign's  saluta 
tion,  but  he  made  no  allusion  to  the  girl. 

"Come  on  out  for  a  bit,"  suggested  Robert; 
"I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

They  went  north  along  the  river  bank  in  silence 
until  they  were  out  of  sight  of  the  house,  then 
Robert  turned  suddenly  and  faced  him. 

"  Say,"  he  said,  "  did  you  tell  any  one  about  my 
• — about  yesterday,  you  know?" 

"No,"  answered  Ronald,  meeting  his  eyes 
squarely;  "why?" 

"Oh — nothing.  Are  you  sure  you  didn't  say 
anything  that  would  lead  any  one  to  suspect?" 

"  'Nary  peep,  unless  I  talked  in  my  sleep.  When 
I  found  out  that  you'd  drained  my  flask  of  every 
thing  but  the  smell,  I  went  to  Doc  after  a  new 
supply,  and  when  he  asked  me  what  had  be 
come  of  it  I  told  him  you'd  taken  to  drink,  but 
that  was  all.  Now,  I  '11  ask  you  a  few  questions. 
Why  does  n't  Miss  Manning  want  me  to  come 
over?" 

"Why,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Forsyth,  won- 
deringly ;  * '  does  n't  she  ? ' ' 

"Doesn't  look  like  it,"  grumbled  the  other. 
"  Did  n't  you  see  her  gallop  into  the  house  the 
minute  I  opened  the  gate?" 


Gifts  203 

"I  did  n't  notice." 

"  You  would,  if  she'd  done  it  to  you."  Ronald 
was  plainly  in  a  bad  humour.  "  What's  more,  if 
I  speak  to  her,  she  never  answers  me  decently.  A 
girl  never  treated  me  like  that  before,"  he  fumed; 
"  just  wait  till  I  get  my  new  uniform!" 

"When  is  it  coming?"  asked  Forsyth,  glad  of 
the  chance  to  change  the  subject. 

"  Dunno — the  boys  are  going  to  start  early  in 
the  morning,  but  there's  no  telling  when  they'll 
get  back." 

"Are  you  going?" 

"Indeed,  and  I  am  not.  How  can  I  go  when 
there's  no  horse  for  me?" 

"I  thought  you  were  going  to — to  borrow," 
stammered  the  other. 

"  Hardly ! "  The  Ensign  stopped  and  wiped  his 
forehead  with  his  sleeve.  "Suffering  Moses!"  he 
said,  "would  n't  she  be  mad!" 

"Yes,  I  think  she  would,  but  I  don't  see  why. 
She  lets  you  lead  Queen,  does  n't  she?" 

"Oh,  Lord,  yes !  I'm  allowed  to  lead  the  beast 
twenty  times  around  the  Fort  every  day  for  exer 
cise — she  said  we  both  needed  it,  and  she  did  n't 
want  to  ride  while  it  was  so  hot, — but  she  par 
ticularly  impressed  it  upon  me  that  under  no  cir 
cumstances  was  I  to  mount.  A  groom— a  stable 


204          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

boy, — that 's  what  she  thinks  I  am !  I  believe  I  '11 
tell  her  to  lead  her  own  nag!" 

"  I  would  n't,"  returned  Forsyth. 

"Why  not?"  demanded  the  other.  "What  do 
you  know  about  women?" 

"Not  very  much,"  admitted  Robert,  laughing; 
"but  we're  all  at  sea  there,  I  fancy." 

Gradually  Ronald's  temper  improved,  and  in  a 
short  time  he  was  his  sunny  self  again.  Peace 
dwelt  in  the  woods  along  the  river,  and  where  the 
young  officer  stretched  himself  full  length  under 
an  overhanging  willow,  the  quiet  coolness  of  the 
unsunned  spaces  put  an  end,  insensibly,  to  his 
irritation. 

"Say,"  he  said,  "did  you  ever  write  poetry?" 

Forsyth  smiled,  remembering  certain  callow 
attempts  in  his  college  days.  "Yes,  I  called  it 
that." 

"  Then  you're  the  very  man  for  me,"  announced 
George,  "for  I'm  going  to  write  a  poem!" 

"What  about?" 

"Oh — er — anything.  Poems  don't  have  to  be 
about  anything,  do  they?  It's  to  go  with  a  pre 
sent — a  birthday  present,  you  know." 

"To  a  girl?" 

Ronald  laughed  long  and  loud.  "No,"  he 
cried;  "of  course  not!  It's  a  little  tribute  of 


Gifts  205 

affection  for  the  Captain!  Lord,  but  you're 
green!" 

1  'How  can  I  help  you  with  it  if  I  don't  know 
the  circumstances?"  demanded  Forsyth.  "  What 
is  the  present?" 

"The  present  isn't  much — the  poem  is  the 
main  part  of  it.  It's  an  Indian  basket  that  Mrs. 
B.  P.  made  for  me  in  return  for  two  fists  of  beads." 
Ronald  took  off  his  cap,  felt  around  carefully  in 
side  of  it,  and  at  length  produced  a  slip  of  paper, 
much  worn.  "  I  've  got  some  of  it,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  thought  if  I  kept  it  on  my  head  it  might  stimu 
late  thought,  but  it  has  n't." 

"  Let  'shear  it." 

The  poet  cleared  his  throat  and  read  proudly : 

"Lovely  lady,  take  this  basket; 
'T  is  your  willing  slave  who  asks  it." 

Robert  bit  his  lips,  but  managed  to  turn  a  seri 
ous  face  toward  Ronald.  "Is  that  all  you've 
got?" 

"That's  all,  so  far.  I  thought  myself  into  a 
headache  about  it,  but  I  could  n't  write  any  more. 
What  shall  I  put  in  next?" 

"I  don't  want  to  seem  critical,"  observed  For 
syth;  "but  you've  got  a  false  rhyme  there." 

"What's  a 'false  rhyme'?" 


206          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

'" Basket'  and  asks  it'— 'ask  it'  would  be  all 
right." 

"It  does  n't  fit.  We'll  leave  that  just  as  it  is 
— nobody  but  you  would  notice  it,  and  you're  not 
getting  the  present." 

"What  do  you  want  to  say  next?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know,  exactly,"  replied  Ronald, 
confidentially.  "Of  course,  I  want  it  to  be  per 
sonal  in  a  way,  with  a  delicate  reminder  of  my 
affection  at  the  end  of  it." 

"You've  got  a  'delicate  reminder,'  as  you  call 
it,  in  the  second  line." 

"  Never  mind  that ;  go  to  work." 

"Lovely  lady,  take  this  basket; 
'T  is  your  willing  slave  who  asks  it," 

repeated  Robert,  thoughtfully.  "  It  was  made  by 
an  Indian  maiden — how  would  that  do?" 

"That's  all  right,  only  it  was  a  squaw." 

"  It  was  made  by  an  Indian  squaw,  then,"  con 
tinued  Robert.  "What  rhymes  with  squaw?" 

"Dunno." 

"Paw,"  saidForsyth. 

"It  was  made  by  an  Indian  squaw 
With  a  dark  and  greasy  paw." 

"  Shut  up !  "  said  Ronald,     "  She'd  throw  it  out 


Gifts  207 

of  the  window  if  she  thought  it  was  n't  clean. 
Call  her  a  maiden  if  you  like." 

"  It  was  made  by  an  Indian  maiden — there  is  n't 
any  rhyme  for  'maiden.'  " 

"  Laden,"  suggested  George,  after  long  and  pain 
ful  thought. 

" That's  good,  if  we  can  work  it  in." 

"It  was  made  by  an  Indian  maiden — 
With  my  love  it  now  goes  laden. 

How's  that?" 

"Fine!"  beamed  Ronald.  "Say,  I  didn't 
know  you  were  a  poet!" 

"Neither  did  I,"  replied  Forsyth,  modestly. 

Lovely  lady,  take  this  basket; 
'T  is  your  willing  slave  who  asks  it. 
It  was  made  by  an  Indian  maiden — 
With  my  love  it  now  goes  laden." 

"That's  simply  magnificent!"  said  Ronald. 
"We  ought  to  write  another  verse,  had  n't  we?" 

"As  you  say." 

"  If  we  can  do  another  one  as  good  as  that,  it'll 
be  a  masterpiece.  My  name  ought  to  come  in  at 
the  end,  hadn't  it?" 

"Nothing  rhymes  with  'Ronald,'  does  it?" 

"I    did  n't  mean  that  —  I    meant   my   front 


208          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Oh,"  said  Forsyth.  He  was  wondering  how 
the  girl  in  Fort  Wayne  would  like  the  poem,  and 
longed  to  ask  questions  about  her,  but  felt  that  it 
would  be  improper. 

"  *  Forge  '  is  the  only  thing  I  can  think  of  for  a 
rhyme,"  said  the  Ensign,  at  length;  "that 
would  n't  do,  would  it?" 

"My  heart  is  burning  like  a  forge, 
All  because  I  love  you — George.' 

How's  that?" 

Ronald's  delight  knew  no  bounds.  "The  very 
thing!"  he  shouted.  "Now,  all  we  have  to  do  is 
to  put  two  lines  above  it  and  it  will  be  done. 
That's  the  end  of  the  verse,  you  know." 

"Might  put  her  name  in,"  suggested  Robert, 
not  without  guile. 

Ronald  appeared  to  consider  it  carefully.  "No, 
he  said,  "  that  would  n't  do.  One  name  is  enough 
to  have  in  it.  Something  ought  to  go  in  about  her 
looks,  don't  you  think  so — eyes,  or  mouth,  or 
skin?" 

"'Skin,'"  repeated  Robert,  laughing;  "girls 
never  have  'skin/  They  call  it  their  'complex 
ion.'" 

"Thought  you  didn't  know  anything  about 
women,"  George  said,  looking  at  him  narrowly. 


Gifts  209 

"  Oh,  come  now,  I  can 't  help  knowing  that — any 
fool  knows  that!" 

"Except  me,"  put  in  the  Ensign,  pointedly. 
"However,  I'll  let  the  insult  pass  for  the  sake  of 
the  poem.  Put  in  something  about  her  mouth, 
can't  you?" 

The  vision  of  Beatrice's  scarlet,  parted  lips, 
with  their  dangerous  curves,  came  before  Robert. 

"Reddest  roses  of  the  South 
Are  not  sweeter  than  your  mouth," 

he  suggested. 

"Man,"  said  Ronald,  soberly,  "you're  a  genius. 
Write  it  down  quick  before  it  gets  away.  Now 
I'll  read  the  whole  thing: 

"Lovely  lady,  take  this  basket; 
'T  is  your  willing  slave  who  asks  it. 
It  was  made  by  an  Indian  maiden — 
With  my  love  it  now  goes  laden. 

"Reddest  roses  of  the  South 
Are  not  sweeter  than  your  mouth; 
My  heart  is  burning  like  a  forge, 
All  because  I  love  you — George. 

Sounds  like  Shakespeare,  does  n't  it?" 

"  I  would  n't  say  that,"  answered  Forsyth,  with 
proper  modesty. 

" Got  any  good  paper  to  write  it  on?" 
14 


210  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Only  a  little,  but  you're  welcome  to  it." 

"All  right,  let's  go  back  and  get  it.  Say,  do 
you  think  she'll  be  pleased?" 

"  She  can't  help  being  pleased,"  Robert  assured 
him. 

"I'm  ever  so  much  obliged,"  said  Ronald  dif 
fidently.  "  I  never  could  have  done  it  so  well 
alone." 

When  they  reached  Mackenzie's,  Beatrice  came 
out  on  the  piazza  as  Robert  went  in  after  the 
paper,  and  she  was  evidently  inclined  to  conversa 
tion. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  she  asked  sweetly. 

"Oh,  just  up-stream  a  little  ways,"  replied 
Ronald,  carelessly. 

"Have  you  had  Queen  out  this  morning?" 

"Yes,  I  rode  her  half-way  to  Fort  Wayne  and 
back.  She  got  pretty  well  used  up,  but  it  did  her 
good." 

"How  dare  you!"  flamed  Beatrice,  stamping 
her  foot. 

Ronald  laughed  and  leaned  easily  against  the 
side  of  the  house  while  she  stormed  at  him.  Even 
Robert's  appearance  did  not  have  any  effect  upon 
her  wrath. 

"Say,  Rob,"  said  the  Ensign,  when  she  paused 
to  take  breath,  "  your  cousin  here  does  n't  seem  to 


Gifts  211 

know  a  joke  when  she  sees  it.  She  thinks  I'd 
ride  that  old  gun-carriage  she  keeps  in  the  garrison 
stables.  Calm  her  down  a  bit,  will  you?  Bye- 
bye!" 

The  fire  died  out  of  the  girl's  eyes  and  her  lips 
quivered.  Her  breast  was  heaving,  but  she  kept 
herself  in  check  till  Ronald  slammed  the  gate, 
then  her  shoulders  shook  with  sobs. 

"Bee!"  cried  Robert.     " Don't,  dear!" 

Instinctively  he  put  his  arm  around  her,  and  she 
leaned  against  his  shoulder,  sobbing  helplessly,  her 
self-control  quite  gone.  Ronald  was  untying  a 
pirogue  at  the  landing,  when  he  looked  back  and 
saw  the  inspiring  tableau. 

"Good  Lord!"  he  said,  under  his  breath,  as 
Robert,  with  his  arm  still  around  her,  led  Bea 
trice  into  the  house. 

Later  in  the  week,  as  Robert  was  on  his  way  to 
breakfast,  he  met  Maria  Indiana  in  the  long,  nar 
row  passage  back  of  the  living-rooms.  "What 
have  you  there,  baby?"  he  asked. 

Maria  Indiana  held  out  a  small  Indian  basket  of 
wonderful  workmanship,  filled  with  berries,  fresh 
and  fragrant,  with  the  dew  still  on  them.  Tucked 
in  at  one  side  was  a  note,  written  upon  his  own 
stationery,  as  he  could  not  help  seeing.  "It's  for 


2 1 2  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Tuzzin  Bee!"  lisped  the  child.  "Misser  George 
said  nobody  mus'  see!" 

The  little  feet  pattered  down  the  passage,  but 
Robert  stood  still  for  a  moment,  as  if  he  had 
turned  to  stone.  Then  wild  unrest  possessed  him 
and  stabs  of  pain  pierced  his  consciousness. 
' '  Fool  that  I  was ! "  he  said  to  himself,  bitterly ; 
"blind,  cursed  fool!" 

All  at  once  he  knew  that  he  loved  Beatrice  with 
every  fibre  of  his  being — that  she  held  his  heart  in 
the  hollow  of  her  hand,  to  crush  or  hurt  as  she 
pleased.  He  was  shaken  like  an  aspen  in  a  storm 
—this,  then,  was  why  her  flower-like  face  had 
haunted  his  dreams. 

Swiftly  upon  the  knowledge  came  a  great  up 
lifting,  such  as  Love  brings  to  the  man  whose  life 
has  been  clean.  It  was  a  proud  heart  yielding 
only  to  the  keeper  of  its  keys — the  absolute  sur 
render  of  a  kingdom  to  its  queen. 

Beatrice  was  late  to  breakfast,  as  usual ;  and  Rob 
ert,  acutely  self-conscious,  could  not  meet  her  eyes. 
She  brought  the  basket  with  her  and  offered  the 
berries  as  her  contribution  to  the  morning  meal. 
Between  gasps  of  laughter  she  read  the  poem, 
thereby  causing  mixed  emotions  in  Forsy th.  ' '  Did 
you  ever  hear  anything  so  ridiculous?"  she  asked, 
wiping  the  tears  of  mirth  from  her  eyes. 


Gifts  213 

Robert  wished  that  the  giver  might  see  the  rare 
pleasure  his  gift  had  brought  to  the  recipient,  but 
swiftly  reproached  himself  for  the  ungenerous 
thought. 

"It  was  nice  of  him  to  remember  your  birth 
day,  Bee,"  said  Mrs.  Mackenzie,  who  was  always 
ready  to  defend  Ronald. 

"How  did  he  know  it  was  my  birthday?"  de 
manded  Beatrice. 

"I  told  him,"  replied  Mrs.  Mackenzie.  "He 
asked  me,  long  ago,  to  find  out  when  it  was  and 
to  let  him  know." 

"Clever  of  him,"  commented  Beatrice,  some 
what  mollified.  "Why  didn't  you  get  some 
thing  for  my  birthday,  Cousin  Rob?"  she  asked, 
with  a  winning  smile. 

"  Perhaps  I  did,"  he  answered;  "the  day  is  still 
young." 

He  had  already  decided  what  to  give  her,  and 
knew  that  his  offering  would  not  suffer  by  com 
parison  with  Ronald's,  even  though  no  poem  went 
with  it ;  but  when  he  went  to  his  room  to  look  in 
his  box  for  the  moccasins  he  had  bought  so  long 
ago,  he  was  astonished  to  find  that  they  were  gone. 

He  ransacked  the  room  thoroughly,  but  with 
out  success.  He  could  not  even  remember  when 
he  had  seen  them  last,  though  he  knew  he  had 


2i4          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

taken  them  down  from  the  wall  of  his  room  and 
put  them  away.  Still,  he  was  not  greatly  con 
cerned,  for  he  was  sure  that  he  could  go  to  the 
Indian  camp  and  find  another  pair. 

After  school  he  started  off  on  a  long,  lonely 
tramp,  and  returned  at  sunset,  empty  handed  and 
exasperated.  Beatrice  had  on  her  pink  calico 
gown,  and  was  sitting  demurely  upon  the  piazza. 
— alone.  She  seemed  like  a  rose  to  her  lover,  and 
he  was  about  to  tell  her  so,  but  she  forestalled  him. 

"Where's  my  birthday  present?"  she  asked, 
sweetly ;  "  I  've  been  looking  for  it  all  day!" 

Then  he  told  her  about  the  moccasins  he  had 
for  her,  though  he  failed  to  mention  the  fact  that 
he  had  bought  them  for  her  long  before  she  came 
to  Fort  Dearborn.  "When  I  went  after  them 
this  morning,"  he  said,  "I  discovered  that  they 
had  been  stolen.  I've  been  out  now  to  see  if  I 
could  n't  get  another  pair,  but  I  could  n't  even 
find  a  squaw  who  was  willing  to  make  them.  You 
don't  know  how  sorry  I  am!" 

"Never  mind,"  she  said  soothingly,  "it's  no 
matter.  Of  course,  I'd  love  to  have  the  moc 
casins,  but  it's  the  thought,  rather  than  the  gift, 
and  I'd  rather  know  that  you  found  out  from 
Aunt  Eleanor  when  my  birthday  was,  and  tried  to 
give  me  pleasure,  than  to  have  the  pleasure  itself." 


Gifts  215 

The  colour  mounted  to  Robert's  temples,  but 
he  could  not  speak.  He  felt  that  his  silence  was 
a  lie,  and  a  cowardly  one  at  that,  but  he  was 
helpless  before  the  girl's  smile. 

"What's  that?"  asked  Beatrice,  suddenly, 
pointing  across  the  river. 

There  was  a  stir  at  the  Fort.  Men  ran  in  and 
out,  evidently  under  stress  of  great  excitement, 
then  a  tall  and  stately  being,  resplendent  in  a  new 
uniform,  came  out  and  turned  a  handspring  on 
the  esplanade. 

"What's  up?"  shouted  Robert. 

Ronald  turned  another  handspring  and  threw 
his  cap  high  in  the  air  before  he  condescended  to 
answer.  "Bully!"  he  roared;  "we're  going  to 
fight!  War  is  declared  against  England!'' 


CHAPTER  XIV 
HEART'S  DESIRE 

THOSE  who  had  complained  of  Captain  Frank 
lin's  lax  methods  were  silent  now.  The 
fortifications  were  strengthened  at  every  pos 
sible  point  and  pickets  were  stationed  in  the 
woods,  at  points  on  the  lake  shore,  along  the  Fort 
Wayne  trail,  and  at  various  places  on  the  prairie. 
There  was  no  target  practice  for  fear  of  a  scarcity 
of  ammunition;  but  the  women  were  taught  to 
handle  the  pistols,  muskets,  and  even  the  cannon 
in  the  blockhouses. 

Mackenzie,  Forsyth,  and  Chandonnais  divided 
the  night  watch  at  the  trading  station.  At  the 
first  sound  of  a  warning  gun,  the  women  and  child 
ren  were  to  be  taken  to  the  Fort.  As  before, 
Beatrice  was  to  go  to  Captain  Franklin's,  Mrs. 
Mackenzie  and  the  children  to  Lieutenant  How 
ard's,  and  the  men  to  barracks. 

"  I  guess  I  '11  move  over  anyway,"  said  Beatrice. 
"  I  would  n't  care  to  make  the  trip  in  the  night. 

216 


Heart's  Desire  217 

I  '11  sleep  at  the  Captain's  and  eat  wherever  I  hap 
pen  to  be." 

Mrs.  Franklin  was  not  told  of  the  plan  until 
Beatrice  and  Robert  appeared  at  her  door  with 
the  enterprising  young  woman's  possessions,  but 
she  made  her  guest  very  welcome. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  you  were  coming?" 
she  asked. 

"What  would  be  the  use  of  telling  you?"  in 
quired  Beatrice.  "You'd  be  obliged  to  say  you 
wanted  me,  so  I  just  came." 

The  Captain's  wife  was  genuinely  glad,  for  of 
late  she  had  been  very  lonely.  Franklin  was  al 
ways  more  or  less  absorbed  in  his  own  affairs,  and 
the  feeling  between  Lieutenant  Howard  and  his 
superior  officer  did  not  tend  to  promote  friendly 
relations  between  the  women.  There  had  been  no 
open  break,  but  each  felt  that  there  might  be  one 
at  any  time. 

Ronald  was  in  high  spirits.  Since  he  had  given 
Beatrice  the  basket  she  had  treated  him  more 
kindly,  and  he  led  Queen  twenty  times  around  the 
Fort  every  day  for  exercise,  without  a  murmur  of 
complaint.  Beatrice  stood  at  the  gate  and  kept 
count ;  while,  across  the  river,  Forsyth  sat  on  the 
piazza  and  envied  the  Ensign,  even  during  his 
monotonous  daily  round. 


2i8  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Among  the  officers  at  the  Fort  the  declaration 
of  war  had  not  been  altogether  unexpected,  for 
vague  rumours  of  England's  arrogance  upon  the 
high  seas  had  reached  the  western  limits  of  civil 
isation,  but  the  situation  was  covered  only  by 
general  orders  from  the  War  Department. 

For  once,  Lieutenant  Howard  agreed  with  the 
Captain,  in  that  there  seemed  to  be  no  great  pos 
sibility  of  a  British  attack.  However  valiantly 
defended,  the  Fort  could  not  be  held  long  in  the 
face  of  a  vigorous  assault  from  the  enemy,  since 
the  righting  force  numbered  less  than  sixty  men, 
but  England  would  have  nothing  to  gain  from 
that  quarter.  Other  points  were  far  more  im 
portant  than  Fort  Dearborn,  but  the  garrison  was 
ready  to  fight,  nevertheless. 

Ronald  was  more  sanguine,  and  lived  in  hourly 
hope  of  hearing  the  signal  of  the  enemy's  ap 
proach.  He  sharpened  the  edge  of  his  sword  to 
the  keen  thinness  of  a  knife  blade,  and  slept  with 
one  hand  upon  his  pistol.  Doctor  Norton,  too, 
was  making  elaborate  preparations  in  the  way  of 
lint  and  bandages,  and  Ronald  helped  him  make 
stretchers  enough  to  last  during  a  lifetime  of  war. 

But  the  days  passed  peacefully,  and  there  were 
no  signs  of  fighting.  The  Indians  were  particu 
larly  lawless,  but  confined  their  violence  to  their 


Heart's  Desire  219 

own  people,  though  they  had  lost,  in  a  great 
measure,  their  wholesome  fear  of  the  soldiers  at 
the  Fort. 

"The  devils  are  insolent  because  they  think 
there's  going  to  be  trouble,  and  in  the  general 
confusion  it  will  escape  notice,"  remarked  Ronald, 
as  he  sat  in  the  shade  of  Lieutenant  Howard's 
piazza.  "I'm  in  favour  of  stringing  up  a  few  of 
'em  by  way  of  example  to  the  rest." 

"Yes,"  replied  Howard,  twisting  his  mustache, 
"  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  'd  have  the  entire  Potta- 
wattomie  tribe  upon  us.  You  don't  seem  to  un 
derstand  that  they  knew  war  had  been  declared 
long  before  we  did,  and  that  even  now,  in  all 
probability,  they  are  in  league  with  the  enemy. 
No  people  on  earth  are  too  low  down  for  England 
to  ally  herself  with  when  she  wants  territory." 

"True,"  answered  Ronald;  "but  I'm  not 
afraid  of  England.  She's  had  one  good  lesson, 
and  we'll  give  her  another  any  time  she  wants 
it." 

"We've  got  enough  on  our  hands  right  here," 
sighed  the  Lieutenant,  "  without  any  more  foreign 
wars.  We've  got  to  have  it  out  with  the  Indians 
yet,  and  fight  our  way  step  by  step.  The  trail  of 
blood  began  at  Plymouth  and  will  end — God 
knows  where.  England  is  more  or  less  civilised, 


220          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

but  she  is  n't  above  setting  the  Indians  upon  us 
to  serve  her  own  ends." 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  asked  Bea 
trice,  coming  across  from  Captain  Franklin's. 

"Yes,  do  tell  us,"  said  Katherine,  from  the 
doorway. 

' 'Affairs  of  state,"  answered  the  Lieutenant, 
easily. 

"Any  British  in  sight?"  inquired  Beatrice. 

"Not  yet,"  replied  Ronald;  "but  the  entire 
army  is  likely  to  drop  on  us  at  any  minute." 

"What  would  you  do?"  she  asked  curiously. 

' '  Do  ? ' '  repeated  Ronald,  striding  up  and  down 
in  front  of  the  house;  "we'd  call  in  the  pickets, 
bar  the  gates,  man  the  guns,  and  send  the  women 
and  children  into  the  Captain's  cellar." 

"Could  Queen  go,  too?" 

"Can  Queen  go  down  a  ladder?" 

"She  never  has,"  answered  Beatrice;  "but  she 
could  if  she  wanted  to — I'm  sure  of  it." 

"If  that's  the  case,"  said  Lieutenant  Howard, 
"we'd  better  offer  her  to  the  British  officers  as  a 
trick  horse  and  buy  off  the  attack." 

"  If  they  come  in  the  daytime,"  continued  Bea 
trice,  ignoring  the  suggestion,  "I  will  go  out  to 
meet  them  all  by  myself.  I'll  put  on  my  pink 
dress  and  my  best  apron,  and  carry  a  white  flag  in 


Heart's  Desire  221 

one  hand  and  the  United  States  flag  in  the  other. 
When  the  British  captain  comes  running  up  to  me 
to  see  what  I  want,  I'll  say:  'Captain,  you  are 
late,  and  to  be  late  to  dinner  is  a  sin.  We  have 
been  looking  for  you  for  some  time,  but  we  will 
forgive  you  if  you  will  come  now.  The  invita 
tion  includes  the  ladies  of  your  party  and  all  the 
officers.'  They  never  could  shoot  after  that." 

Katherine  joined  in  the  laugh  that  followed,  but 
her  heart  was  uneasy,  none  the  less.  Like  Ron 
ald,  she  was  continually  expecting  an  attack  and 
knew  there  could  be  but  one  result.  She  believed 
that  the  Indians  and  the  British  would  make 
common  cause  against  them,  when  the  time  came 
to  strike. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Ronald,  "some  of  us 
ought  to  go  out  and  drag  in  Mad  Margaret.  If 
we  stood  her  up  on  the  stockade,  there  is  n't  an 
Indian  in  the  tribe  who  would  dare  to  aim  an 
arrow  or  throw  a  tomahawk  toward  the  Fort." 

"I've  never  seen  her,"  said  Beatrice,  thought 
fully. 

"I  hope  you  never  will,"  answered  Ronald, 
quickly.  "  She's  crazy,  of  course;  but  she  has  an 
uncanny  way  about  her  that  a  sensitive  person 
would  consider  disturbing.  She  pranced  into  the 
Fort  on  a  Winter  afternoon  two  years  ago  and 


222          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

prophesied  a  flood,  followed  by  a  terribly  hot  Sum 
mer,  and  no  crops.  When  the  Spring  rains  came, 
the  river  spread  on  all  sides,  and,  sure  enough, 
there  were  no  crops  that  year." 

"Was  it  hot,  too?" 

' '  Oh,  Lord !  Was  it  hot  ?  If  hell  is  any  hotter 
I  don't  care  to  go  to  it." 

"  You  talk  as  if  that  was  your  final  destination,'* 
observed  Katherine. 

"That's  as  it  may  be,"  returned  the  Ensign. 
"I've  often  been  invited  to  go,  and  several  times 
I've  been  told  that  it  was  a  fitting  place  of  resi 
dence  for  such  as  I." 

"  I  did  n't  know  about  that,"  said  the  Lieuten 
ant,  thoughtfully,  referring  to  the  fulfilment  of 
the  prophecy. 

"You  weren't  here,"  explained  Ronald.  "It 
was  before  you  came — in  1810,  I  think." 

"Cousin  Rob  told  me  about  her,"  said  Bea 
trice.  "He  said  she  came  to  Uncle  John's  the 
same  day  he  did,  and  he's  seen  her  once  or  twice 
since.  She  always  says  that  she  sees  much  blood, 
then  fire,  and  afterward  peace." 

"Yes,"  growled  the  Ensign;  "she's  for  ever 
harping  on  blood.  She  stuck  her  claws  into  me 
that  night,  I  remember — told  me  I  should  never 
have  my  heart's  desire." 


Heart's  Desire  223 

"What  is  your  heart's  desire?"  asked  Beatrice, 
lightly. 

The  Summer  faded  and  another  day  came  back. 
Once  again  he  sat  before  the  roaring  fire  at  the 
trading  station,  with  Forsyth,  Mackenzie,  and 
Chandonnais  grouped  around  him,  while  phan 
toms  of  snow  drifted  by  and  sleet  beat  against  the 
window  panes.  Then  the  door  seemed  to  open 
softly  and  Mad  Margaret  made  her  way  into  the 
circle.  Chandonnais'  wild  music  sounded  again 
in  his  ears,  then  he  felt  the  thin,  claw-like  hands 
upon  him  and  heard  the  high,  tremulous  voice 
saying,  "You  shall  never  have  your  heart's  de 
sire"  ;  and,  in  answer  to  his  question,  "  It  has  not 
come,  but  you  will  know  it  soon." 

The  blood  beat  in  his  ears,  but  he  heard  Bea 
trice  say,  once  more,  "What  is  your  heart's 
desire?" 

A  flash  of  inward  light  revealed  it — the  girl  who 
stood  before  him,  with  the  sunlight  on  her  hair, 
and  her  scarlet  lips  parted;  strong  and  self-re 
liant,  yet  wholly  womanly. 

Ronald  cleared  his  throat.  "You  shouldn't 
ask  me  such  questions,"  he  said,  trying  to  speak 
lightly,  "when  all  these  people  are  around." 

"We'd  better  go,  Kit,"  remarked  the  Lieuten 
ant  ;  "we  seem  to  be  in  the  way." 


224          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

''Anything  to  please,"  murmured  Mrs.  Howard, 
as  they  went  into  the  house. 

Ronald  was  looking  at  Beatrice,  with  all  his 
soul  in  his  eyes.  "  I — I  must  go,"  she  stammered. 
"  Aunt  Eleanor  will  want  me." 

"Don't — dear!"  The  boyishness  was  all  gone, 
and  it  was  the  voice  of  a  man  in  pain.  The  deep 
crimson  flamed  into  her  face  and  dyed  the  white 
ness  of  her  neck  just  below  the  turn  of  her  cheek. 
She  did  not  dare  to  look  at  him,  but  fled  ignom- 
iniously. 

He  did  not  follow  her,  but  she  heard  him  laugh 
— a  hollow,  mirthless  laugh,  with  a  catch  in  it 
that  sounded  like  a  sob.  She  never  knew  how  she 
crossed  the  river,  but  she  was  surprised  to  find 
Forsyth  waiting  for  her.  As  he  helped  her  out  of 
the  pirogue,  he  said;  "  I  was  just  going  after  you 
—we  feared  we  had  lost  you." 

"I'm  not  lost,"  she  said  shortly,  "and  I  don't 
want  people  running  around  after  me!" 

The  shadow  that  crossed  his  face  haunted  her, 
even  while  he  sat  opposite  her  at  dinner  and 
laughed  and  joked  with  her  as  usual.  When  Mrs. 
Mackenzie  took  the  baby  away  for  his  afternoon 
nap,  with  Maria  Indiana  wailing  sleepily  at  her 
skirts,  Beatrice  went  to  her  own  room,  fearing  to 
be  alone  with  Robert.  She  was  strangely  rest- 


Heart's  Desire  225 

less,  and  something  seemed  to  hang  over  her  like 
an  indefinite,  threatening  fate. 

Outside  was  the  drowsy  hum  of  midsummer, 
where  the  fairy  folk  of  the  fields  rubbed  their 
wings  together  in  the  grass  and  the  sun  trans 
formed  the  river  to  a  sheet  of  shining  silver. 
Ronald  came  out,  took  the  good  boat  which  be 
longed  to  the  Fort,  and  pulled  down-stream  with 
long,  steady  strokes.  The  river  was  low,  but  he 
passed  the  bar  with  little  difficulty  and  went  on 
out  into  the  lake. 

Beatrice  heard  Robert  singing  happily  to  him 
self,  but  she  could  not  stay  any  longer  where  she 
was.  She  gathered  up  her  sewing  and  climbed  out 
of  the  window,  ungracefully  but  effectively,  and 
went  back  to  the  Fort. 

Katherine  saw  her  coming  and  smiled.  That 
morning,  with  quick  intuition,  she  had  read  the 
secret  in  Ronald's  heart,  and  suddenly  knew  how 
much  she  cared  for  the  boy  who  teased  and  tor 
mented,  but  never  failed  her  if  she  needed  him. 
In  her  own  mind,  she  had  written  down  Beatrice 
as  an  unsparing  coquette,  and  determined  to  take 
up  the  cudgels  in  behalf  of  her  victim. 

The  girl  sewed  nervously,  breaking  her  thread 
frequently,  but  she  kept  at  it  until  Katherine  said, 

very  gently,  "  Bee,  George  cares  for  you." 
25 


226          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"I  know!"  snapped  Beatrice.  Her  thread 
broke  again,  and  her  hands  trembled  so  she  could 
scarcely  knot  it. 

"And  Robert,  too,"  said  Katherine,  presently. 

"I  know!" 

"Well,  dear,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it?" 

"Cousin  Kit,"  said  the  girl,  angrily,  "if  you're 
going  to  lecture  me,  I  'm  going  back  home."  She 
folded  up  her  work,  but  Mrs.  Howard  put  a  re 
straining  hand  upon  her  arm. 

"Don't,  Bee.  You  know  we  talked  about  my 
trouble  together — why  can't  we  talk  about  yours? " 

"  I  have  n't  any  trouble!"  Beatrice's  face  was 
flushed,  but  her  voice  was  softer,  and  she  seemed 
willing  to  stay. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?"  asked 
Katherine,  once  more. 

"What  can  I  do  about  it?"  cried  Beatrice,  in  a 
high  key — "why,  that's  simple,  I'm  sure!  I  can 
go  to  Mr.  Ronald  and  say,  '  Please,  Mr.  Ronald, 
don't  ask  me  to  marry  you,  because  I  'm  going  to 
marry  Cousin  Rob.  He  does  n't  know  it  yet ;  in 
fact,  he  has  n't  even  asked  me,  but  I  'm  going  to 
do  it  just  the  same.'  Or,  I  might  go  to  Cousin 
Rob  and  say,  '  My  dear  Mr.  Forsyth,  I  hope  you 
won't  ask  me  to  marry  you,  because  I  'm  going  to 


Heart's  Desire  227 

marry  Mr.  Ronald,  who  has  n't  asked  me  as  yet. 
In  fact,"  she  continued,  with  her  temper  rising, 
"I've  about  concluded  that  I  won't  marry  any 
body!" 

"  Bee,  dear,  I  'm  only  trying  to  help  you — please 
don't  be  cross  to  me.  Which  one  do  you  care 
for?" 

" Neither!"  cried  Beatrice,  in  a  passion.  "I 
don't  care  for  anybody,  and  I  'm  never  going  to  be 
married.  I'd  be  happy,  would  n't  I?  Tied  up — 
chained  like  a  dog — take  what  my  master  gave  me 
— slave — drudge — bear  whatever  burden  he  saw 
fit  to  put  upon  me — eat  my  heart  out  in  loneli 
ness — cry  all  day  and  all  night  for  my  lost  freedom. 
Marry?  Not  I!" 

"  Marriage  means  all  those  things,  as  you  say," 
said  Katherine,  after  a  silence ;  "but  the  bitterest 
part  of  it  is  that,  when  you  find  your  mate,  you 
have  to  go.  The  call  is  insistent — there  is  no 
other  way.  It  means  child-bearing  and  child  loss 
— it  means  a  thousand  kinds  of  pain  that  you 
never  knew  before, — loneliness,  doubt,  sacrifice, 
misunderstanding, — and  always  the  fear  of  change. 
Before,  you  think  of  it  as  a  permanent  bond  of 
happiness ;  later,  you  see  that  it  is  a  yoke,  borne 
unequally.  You  marry  to  keep  love,  but  some 
times  that  is  the  surest  way  to  lose  it. 


228          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"  They  say,"  continued  Katherine,  with  her  face 
white,  "that  after  the  first  few  years  the  storm 
and  stress  dies  out  into  indifference,  and  that  hap 
piness  and  content  are  again  possible.  But  oh," 
she  breathed,  " those  few  years!  If  man  and 
woman  must  go  through  the  world  together, 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  meeting  the  same  troubles, 
the  same  difficulties  and  dangers,  why,  oh,  why, 
did  n't  God  make  us  of  the  same  clay !  We  are 
different  in  a  thousand  ways;  we  act  in  opposite 
directions,  from  differing  and  incomprehensible 
motives — our  point  of  view  is  instinctively  differ 
ent,  and  yet  we  are  chained.  Sex  against  sex  it 
has  been  since  the  world  began — sex  against  sex 
it  shall  be  to  the  bitter  end!" 

' *  Katherine ! ' '  sobbed  Beatrice,  ' '  I  know !  That 
is  what  I  am  afraid  of!  All  the  time  I  keep 
tight  hold  of  myself  to  keep  from  caring,  because 
I  dare  not  surrender.  If  I  yield,  I  am  lost.  If 
I  loved  a  man,  he  could  take  me  between  his  two 
hands  and  crush  me — so ;  I  should  be  so  wholly 
his!" 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  bitterly,  "and  many 
times  he  will  crush  you,  just  to  see  if  he  can — just 
to  see  that  he  has  not  lost  his  command  of  you. 
Power  is  what  he  must  have — power  over  your 
mind  and  body,  your  heart  and  your  soul — for 


Heart's  Desire  229 

every  little  unthinking  action  of  yours,  you  are 
held  responsible  before  the  bar  of  his  justice.  His 
justice,"  she  repeated,  scornfully,  "when  he  does 
not  know  what  the  word  means.  You  have  a 
little  corner  of  his  life ;  you  give  him  all  of  yours  in 
return.  We  are  bound  like  slaves  that  never  can 
be  free — God  made  it  so — and  we  obey!" 

There  was  a  tense  silence,  then  a  step  was  heard 
upon  the  piazza,  and  Katherine  opened  the  door 
to  her  husband.  Beatrice  managed  to  wipe  her 
wet  eyes  upon  her  sewing  before  he  saw  that  she 
was  there. 

"Well,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  easily,  sinking 
into  a  chair,  "what  have  you  girls  been  doing?" 

"  Oh,  we've  just  been  talking,"  answered  Kath 
erine,  diffidently. 

"Talking,  talking, — always  talking,"  he  con 
tinued.  "  What  would  women  do  if  they  could  n't 
talk?" 

"They'd  burst,"  remarked  Beatrice,  concisely. 

"  I  guess  that's  right,"  laughed  the  Lieutenant; 
"but  you  need  n't  fear  it  will  happen  to  you." 

"You're  mean  to  me,"  said  Beatrice,  gathering 
up  her  work,  "so  I'm  going  home." 

"  Don't  be  in  a  hurry,"  put  in  Katherine. 

"I  haven't  been — you  don't  want  me  to  live 
here,  do  you?" 


230          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"We  should  be  charmed,"  replied  the  Lieuten 
ant,  gallantly. 

"I'll  consider  it,"  she  said  shortly.  "Good 
bye!" 

"  Tempestuous  sort  of  a  girl,"  commented  How 
ard,  as  Beatrice  disappeared.  "She'd  play  the 
devil  with  a  man,  would  n't  she?" 

"That's  exactly  what  she's  doing." 

"Which  man?"  asked  Howard,  curiously. 

"  Messrs.  Ronald  and  Forsyth,"  answered  Kath- 
erine,  laughing.  "How  blind  and  stupid  you 
are!" 

The  Lieutenant's  disposition  had  undergone 
outward  improvement  of  late.  By  common  con 
sent  he  and  Katherine  had  started  afresh,  making 
no  reference  to  past  disagreements,  and  he  had 
wisely  ceased  to  question  her  motives  or  her  ac 
tions.  He  let  her  understand  that  she  might  do 
as  she  pleased  in  all  things,  and,  naturally,  she 
was  not  willing  to  take  undue  advantage  of  her 
tacit  freedom.  Still,  the  old  happiness  and  con 
fidence  were  gone. 

Forsyth  had  the  second  watch  that  night  and 
was  sitting  on  the  piazza,  listening  for  the  warning 
guns  of  the  pickets  on  the  lookout  for  the  enemy, 
when  Ronald  came  across  the  river. 


Heart's  Desire  231 

"Thought  you  were  here,"  he  said,  "so  I  came 
over,  as  I  couldn't  sleep." 

"I'm  glad  you  did,"  returned  Robert.  "It 
gets  pretty  lonely  out  here  about  three  o'clock  in 
the  morning." 

"Are  you  sleepy?" 

"Not  a  bit." 

"Who  comes  on  next,  and  when?" 

"Chan's  watch  begins  at  three — it  isn't  far 
from  that  now." 

"Call  him  up,  then,  and  let's  go  out  awhile.  I 
can't  sit  still." 

"All  right." 

When  the  half-breed,  muttering  sleepily,  was 
finally  stationed  on  the  piazza,  with  instructions 
to  listen  for  the  guns,  they  walked  out  to  the 
river. 

"Which  way?"  asked  Robert. 

"Either— I  don't  care." 

The  moon  was  shining  brightly  and  the  earth 
was  exquisitely  still.  The  Fort,  transfigured  by  its 
mantle  of  silver  sheen,  might  have  been  some  moss- 
grown  feudal  castle,  with  a  gleaming  river  at  its 
gate.  Ronald  walked  rapidly,  and  his  breath 
came  in  quick,  short  jerks. 

"What's  gone  wrong  with  you?"  asked  For- 
syth,  kindly. 


232          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  put  it,"  said  the  soldier, 
after  a  long  silence,  "for  I  never  was  good  at 
words ;  but,  — well,  you  like  Beatrice  pretty  well, 
don't  you?" 

"Yes,  don't  you?" 

"  She's  my  heart's  desire,"  said  Ronald,  thickly. 

They  wrere  in  the  forest  now,  where  the  tall 
trees  stood  like  the  pillars  of  a  cathedral,  and  the 
moonlight,  softened  by  the  overhanging  branches, 
fell  full  upon  Robert's  face,  white  to  the  lips  with 
pain. 

"Old  man,"  said  Ronald,  huskily,  "one  of  us  is 
going  to  get  hurt." 

"Yes,"  returned  Forsyth,  dully,  "I  suppose  so 
— we  can't  both  have  her." 

"Perhaps  neither  of  us  can,  but — well,  what 
ever  happens — say,  it  is  n't  going  to  interfere  with 
our  friendship,  is  it?" 

"  No ! "  cried  Forsyth ;  "a  thousand  times,  no ! " 

Ronald  wrung  the  other's  hand  in  a  fierce  grasp 
and  choked  down  a  lump  in  his  throat.  "She's 
too  good  for  me,"  he  muttered;  " I  know  that  as 
well  as  anybody,  but,  on  my  soul,  I  can't  give  her 
up!" 

"She's  for  the  man  she  loves,"  said  Forsyth, 
"and  for  no  other.  She  would  n't  marry  a  king 
if  she  did  n't  love  him." 


Heart's  Desire  233 

''Well,"  sighed  Ronald,  "so  be  it.  May  the 
best  man  win!" 

"  For  the  sake  of  her  happiness,  yes.  Of  the 
three  of  us,  only  one  will  suffer,  unless  you  and  I 
share  it  together ;  but  even  that  is  better  than  for 
her  to  be  unhappy.  I  have  n't  a  chance  with  you 
— I  know  I  have  n't ;  but  you're  my  friend  and — 
I — I  love  her  so  much,  that  I  could  give  her  to 
you,  if  she  loved  you  better  than  she  loved  me." 

' '  Rob !  Rob ! ' '  cried  Ronald,  ' '  you  're  the  only 
friend  I've  got,  but  I  don't  need  any  more. 
Whatever  happens,  I'll  hold  fast  to  that — there  '11 
be  something  left  for  me  after  all!" 


CHAPTER  XV 

RIVALS 

AUGUST  came,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  fight 
ing.     Beatrice  was  openly  skeptical,  and 
said   she   did   not  believe  there  had   been   any 
declaration  of  war,  but  she  spent  more  of  her  time 
at  Captain  Franklin's  than  at  home. 

Forsyth  and  the  Mackenzies  missed  her  keenly, 
even  though  she  made  occasional  visits  across  the 
river.  Her  real  reason  was  her  wish  to  avoid 
Forsyth  and  Ronald;  but  both  of  them  went 
cheerfully  to  the  Captain's  on  flimsy  pretexts  or 
on  none  at  all. 

Robert  fell  into  the  habit  of  making  early  morn 
ing  calls  on  Lieutenant  and  Mrs.  Howard.  Then, 
when  Beatrice  came  out  of  the  house  to  sit  on  the 
porch,  he  could  saunter  over  carelessly  and  spend 
an  accidental  hour  or  so  with  her.  Ronald  was 
more  direct  and  never  hesitated  to  pound  vigor 
ously  at  the  door  when  he  wanted  to  see  Beatrice 
and  had  the  slightest  excuse  for  going  there. 

234 


Rivals  235 

The  experience  was  new  to  the  Ensign,  who 
had  come  unscathed  through  many  a  flirtation, 
and  who  had  regarded  love  lightly,  after  the  man 
ner  of  his  kind.  He  had  been  the  master  of  every 
situation  so  far,  but  at  last  he  had  come  face  to 
face  with  something  that  made  him  weak  and 
helpless — as  if  he  had  been  clay  in  the  potter's 
hands. 

No  matter  how  hot  it  was,  he  led  Queen  pa 
tiently  twenty  times  around  the  Fort  in  the  broil 
ing  sun,  and  never  attempted  to  mount,  even 
when  Beatrice  was  in  the  house.  Moreover, 
though  he  would  have  scorned  to  rub  down  his 
own  horse,  he  often  put  finishing  touches  upon 
Queen's  glossy  coat  after  she  had  been  groomed. 
This  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  go  over  to  Cap 
tain  Franklin's,  still  leading  the  horse,  and  ask 
Beatrice  how  she  liked  her  pet's  appearance. 
Simple  and  transparent  as  the  device  was,  it  never 
failed  to  win  a  smile  for  him,  and  sometimes,  too, 
the  girl  would  linger  to  feed  Queen  lumps  of  sugar 
and  gossip  with  Ronald  meanwhile. 

She  painted  when  she  felt  like  it,  and  did  a  great 
deal  of  sewing,  both  occupations  being  fraught 
with  interest  to  Forsyth  and  Ronald.  Mrs-.  Frank 
lin  was  often  one  of  the  group,  and  Katherme 
made  no  attempt  to  efface  herself. 


236          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

They  were  all  sitting  on  the  porch  in  front  of 
the  Captain's  house  one  hot  morning,  when  Ron 
ald  appeared  with  a  bowl  and  a  spoon.  "  Taste," 
he  said,  offering  it  to  Mrs.  Franklin.  Katherine 
followed  her  example,  then  Beatrice,  always 
eager  for  new  sensations,  helped  herself  rather 
liberally.  Robert  also  partook  of  the  savoury 
stew. 

' '  Pretty  good, ' '  he  said  critically ;  ' '  what  is  it  ? " 

"It's  poor  old  Major,"  replied  Ronald,  sadly; 
' '  the  Indians  cooked  him  and  let  me  have  some  of 
the  remains." 

Beatrice  gasped  and  fled  into  the  house.  The 
other  women  had  risen  to  follow  her,  when  the 
situation  was  relieved  by  the  appearance  of  Major 
coming  across  the  parade-ground  in  full  cry,  with 
Doctor  Norton  in  hot  pursuit. 

"  I  could  n't  hold  him  any  longer!"  shouted  the 
Doctor. 

"  You  brute!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Franklin. 

Katherine  went  into  the  house  to  relieve  Bea 
trice's  apprehensions,  and  they  returned  together 
to  add  to  the  torrent  of  reproach  that  assailed  the 
Ensign's  ears.  He  was  doubled  up  with  unseemly 
mirth  and  apparently  did  not  hear. 

"That  just  goes  to  show,"  he  said,  when  the 
paroxysm  had  passed,  "how  the  mind  influences 


Rivals  237 

the  body.  I  had  an  argument  with  Doc  this 
morning,  and  I  've  proved  my  point.  If  he  had  n't 
let  Major  go,  you  would  have  thought  you  had 
eaten  him  and  been  miserable  accordingly.  Rob 
said  it  was  good,  and,  dog  or  not  dog,  the  fact 
remains." 

Beatrice  turned  pale  as  a  horrible  suspicion  en 
tered  her  mind.  "  What  is  it  ? "  she  asked.  "  Upon 
your  word  and  honour,  what  is  it?" 

"It's  mutton  stew,"  replied  Ronald,  conclus 
ively,  "made  by  Mrs.  Mackenzie  this  very  morn 
ing  for  your  own  approaching  dinner.  She  kindly 
gave  me  some  of  it  to  keep  me  alive  till  noon.  In 
fact,  I  helped  to  make  it." 

"You're  a  wretch!"  exclaimed  Katherine. 

"Just  hear  'em,  Doc,"  said  Ronald,  assuming  a 
grieved  tone. 

"I'm  not  sure  but  what  you  deserve  it," 
laughed  Norton.  "  If  I  had  known  what  you  were 
going  to  do,  I  would  n't  have  tried  to  hold  the 
dog." 

"It's  really  very  interesting,"  observed  the  En 
sign,  thoughtfully.  "  It  shows  what  slaves  of  cus 
tom  we  are.  Major  is  a  medium-sized,  woolly 
animal,  much  better  looking  than  a  sheep,  yet 
sheep  is  considered  eatable  and  Major  isn  't. 
Then,  too,  we  eat  cattle  and  draw  the  line  at 


238          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

horses — there  must  be  many  a  good  steak  on 
Queen." 

Tears  came  to  Beatrice's  eyes,  but  she  said 
nothing,  and  Forsyth  warned  Ronald  with  a  look 
which  was  not  noticed. 

1  'Not  that  I  think  of  eating  her,"  resumed 
George,  cheerfully;  "  I  would  n't  get  any  exercise 
if  I  did.  I  would  n't  miss  leading  that  beast 
around  the  Fort  every  morning  for  a  fortune. 
It's  the  only  uninterrupted  feminine  society  I 
have." 

At  this  juncture,  Beatrice  went  into  the  house 
and  slammed  the  door  emphatically. 

"Our  diet  here  seems  to  be  somewhat  re 
stricted,"  continued  Ronald,  apparently  unmind 
ful  of  his  decreasing  audience, — "  cow  and  sheep, 
sheep  and  cow,  with  an  occasional  piggy  rift  in 
the  cloud.  Birdie  eats  dog  whenever  he  can  get 
it,  and  look  at  him— he 's  got  as  much  endurance 
as  any  five  of  us,  and  I  'm  not  sure  but  what 
he's  better  put  together  than  I  am." 

"Yes,  he  is,"  put  in  Katherine,  with  caustic 
emphasis;  "and  he's  better  company,  also. 
Come  in,"  she  continued,  to  Mrs.  Franklin. 

Ronald  gazed  after  the  retreating  figures  in 
pained  amazement.  "  Well,  what  do  you  think  of 
that  ? "  he  asked  mournfully.  ' '  You  fellows  prob- 


Rivals  239 

ably  don't  notice  it,  because  you're  not  sensitive 
to  such  things;  but,  to  my  mind,  which  is  more 
finely  organised,  it's  a  delicate  intimation  that 
we're  not  wanted.  Let's  move  along." 

" '  Delicate'  is  good,"  commented  the  Doctor,  as 
they  walked  away.  "I  call  it  rather  pointed, 
myself." 

" Strange,  isn't  it,"  remarked  Ronald,  imper 
sonally,  "how  some  people  fall  into  line  with  the 
expressed  opinions  of  others!" 

"  Ronald,"  said  the  Doctor,  with  mock  admira 
tion,  "  I  don't  think  I  ever  met  a  man  with  so 
much  fine  tact  as  you  have.  Your  unerring  choice 
of  happy  subjects  stands  by  itself — alone  and  un 
approachable." 

"Run  along  to  your  medicines,  you  old  pill- 
roller,"  retorted  the  Ensign;  "I  want  to  talk  to 
my  cousin  Robert." 

Norton  laughed  and  turned  away,  but  he  felt 
his  isolation  keenly,  none  the  less.  Lieutenant 
Howard  was  barely  civil  to  him,  as  was  natural 
under  the  circumstances,  and  he  dared  not  see 
much  of  Katherine.  Captain  Franklin  was  not 
particularly  congenial,  and  Mrs.  Franklin  had  a 
vague  distrust  of  him.  She  knew  nothing  more 
about  the  affair  than  Katherine  had  told  her 
in  the  winter,  but  she  surmised  a  great  deal. 


240          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Ronald  had  been  the  Doctor's  mainstay,  but  since 
Beatrice  came  to  Fort  Dearborn  he  had  been  con 
spicuous  by  his  absence.  Forsyth  was  busy  a 
great  deal  of  the  time,  and  the  Doctor  was  left  to 
intermittent  association  with  the  Mackenzies  and 
the  dubious  consolation  of  the  barracks. 

It  was  true,  as  he  often  told  himself,  that  his 
nature  was  one  of  those  foreordained  to  loneliness, 
but  at  times  he  hungered  for  the  companionship 
of  his  kind.  Books  were  few  upon  the  frontier, 
and  those  few  he  knew  by  heart;  so  he  scraped 
lint,  made  bandages,  brewed  medicines,  cultivated 
a  certain  philosophical  turn  of  mind,  and  won 
dered  vaguely  where  and  how  it  would  end. 

Ronald  and  Forsyth  were  walking  aimlessly  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  Fort.  The  rigid  dis 
cipline  had  somewhat  relaxed,  but  no  one  was 
permitted  to  pass  the  picket  lines.  The  Indians 
only  came  and  went  as  they  pleased,  recognising 
no  laws  but  those  of  their  own  making. 

Ronald  appeared  to  have  something  on  his 
mind,  and  made  disconnected  and  irrelevant  an 
swers  to  Forsyth's  observations.  "Say,"  he 
interrupted,  at  last,  "how  do  you  suppose  we're 
ever  going  to  get  anywhere?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Robert,  in  aston 
ishment. 


Rivals  241 

''Why,  Beatrice,  you  know,"  he  said  awk 
wardly;  "you  don't  give  me  any  chance." 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  returned  the  other, 
coolly. 

"Come  now,"  said  Ronald,  roughly;  "you 
know  I'm  no  good  at  words,  but  I  don't  get  your 
idea.  There's  always  a  mob  around  wherever  she 
is,  and  if  I  get  her  to  myself  a  minute  you  prance 
in  as  if  you  belonged  there.  If  you're  always 
going  to  do  that,  we  might  as  well  hunt  her  up 
now,  tell  her  we  both  want  to  marry  her,  ask  her 
to  take  her  pick,  and  end  the  suspense." 

An  amused  light  came  into  Robert's  eyes.  "  Do 
you  know,"  he  replied,  "it's  seemed  to  me  the 
same  way.  If  I  get  her  to  myself  for  a  minute, 
you  make  it  your  business  to  join  us.  This  morn 
ing,  now, — I  was  there  first,  was  n't  I?" 

The  Ensign's  clouded  face  cleared.  "I  guess 
you  were,"  he  said  slowly;  "honestly,  do  I  do 
that?" 

"  I  should  say  you  did,"  answered  Forsyth,  with 
unexpected  spirit.  "  Since  she  moved  away  from 
Aunt  Eleanor's,  I  have  n't  seen  her  alone  for  ten 
minutes." 

Ronald  laughed  heartily  as  the  ludicrous  ele 
ment  of  the  situation  dawned  upon  him.  "I 
say,  old  man,"  he  began,  "we'll  have  to  fix  it 

16 


242          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

some  way — divide  her  up  into  watches,  you  know, 
or  something  like  that." 

Forsyth  did  not  relish  the  way  Ronald  ex 
pressed  it,  but  he  caught  the  idea  and  nodded. 

" How '11  we  do  it?"  continued  the  Ensign. 
"  We  can't  take  her  into  our  confidence." 

"Don't  know,"  returned  Robert,  dully.  "It 
does  n't  make  any  difference,  really,  for  I  have  n't 
a  chance  with  you." 

" Cheer  up — you'll  never  get  her  if  you  mourn 
all  the  time.  A  girl  likes  to  have  things  lively. 
I  know  how  you  feel — I've  often  felt  that  way 
myself;  but  I  try  to  keep  things  going  just  the 
same.  You  have  to  attract  a  woman's  attention 
— it  does  n't  much  matter  how." 

"I  surmised  you  thought  that  this  morning," 
remarked  Forsyth,  with  veiled  sarcasm.  He  failed 
to  mention  the  fact  that,  although  he  loved  Bea 
trice,  her  evident  displeasure  had  made  him  un 
speakably  glad. 

Ronald's  face  bronzed,  but  he  seldom  admitted 
the  possibility  of  his  making  a  mistake.  "We'll 
say,"  he  began,  "for  the  hypothesis,  that  our 
chances  are  equal.  Since  she  moved  over  to  the 
Captain's  you ' ve  lost  your  unfair  advantage.  She 
goes  across  the  river,  of  course,  but  we'll  set 
against  that  the  fact  that  she's  in  the  Fort  the 


Rivals  243 

rest  of  the  time.  New,  suppose  we  divide  the  day 
into  three  parts — morning,  afternoon,  and  even 
ing.  It 's  morning  till  noon,  afternoon  till  six,  and 
evening  till  midnight.  She  must  n't  lose  her 
sleep,  or  she'll  be  cross.  We'll  take  turns.  For 
instance,  if  I  have  the  morning,  you  get  the  after 
noon,  and  I  '11  take  the  evening.  The  next  day  it 
will  be  your  turn  in  the  morning  and  evening,  and 
mine  in  the  afternoon — see?" 

"Suppose  she  does  n't  come  out?" 

"That's  as  it  may  be.  The  fellow  whose  turn 
it  is  takes  the  risk.  She  can  do  as  she  pleases — 
we  simply  agree  to  leave  the  field  for  the  other 
at  the  times  specified,  military  and  educational 
duties  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  That's 
fair,  is  n't  it?" 

"Yes,  I  think  it  is.  Anyhow,  it's  better  than 
we've  been  doing — it  will  lessen  the  possibility  of 
friction." 

"Good  thing,"  commented  Ronald.  "Many  a 
time  I've  felt  like  taking  you  by  the  collar  and 
shaking  you  as  a  terrier  shakes  a  rat." 

"Me,  too,"  laughed  Forsyth.  "Whose  turn  is 
it  this  afternoon?" 

"I  think  it's  mine.  We  were  both  there  this 
morning,  but  you've  intimated  that  I  didn't 
leave  a  pleasant  impression,  and  I  ought  to 


244          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

have  a  chance  to  set  myself  right,  don't  you 
think?" 

"As  you  say — it  doesn't  make  any  difference 
to  me." 

"I'll  have  to  get  out  pretty  early  some  of  the 
time,"  mused  Ronald,  "and  exercise  the  beast. 
I  don't  want  to  lose  a  precious  hour  doing  that." 

"We  might  take  turns—  '  suggested  Forsyth, 
tentatively. 

"We  will  not,"  retorted  Ronald.  "That's  my 
job — she  gave  it  to  me  herself." 

Forsyth  went  across  the  river  and  Ronald  re 
turned  to  the  Fort.  Each  was  relieved  because 
the  matter  was  settled,  for,  as  Robert  had  indic 
ated,  there  had  been  friction. 

All  through  the  long,  hot  afternoon  Ronald  kept 
a  close  watch  upon  Captain  Franklin's  door.  His 
knock  met  with  no  response,  and  Katherine  had 
long  since  gone  home.  Doctor  Norton  had  at 
tempted  to  talk  with  the  waiting  swain,  but  found 
it  unsatisfactory  and  retired  gracefully. 

Just  before  six  o'clock  Beatrice  emerged.  Her 
white  gown  was  turned  in  a  little  at  the  throat, 
and  her  hair  hung  far  below  her  waist  in  a  heavy, 
shining  braid,  ending  in  a  curl.  Ronald's  heart 
gave  a  great  leap  as  he  went  to  meet  her. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked. 


Rivals  245 

"  Over  to  Aunt  Eleanor's.  You  spoiled  my  din 
ner  and  I'm  hungry." 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  said,  with  evident  contrition; 
"will  you  forgive  me?" 

"You  ought  to  do  penance  for  it." 

"  I'll  do  anything  you  say,  Miss  Bee." 

"  Lead  Queen  twenty-five  times  around  the  Fort 
after  sundown,"  she  said.  "  She'll  be  glad  to  get 
out  again,  and  it  won't  hurt  you." 

Ronald  smiled  grimly  as  she  went  away,  disre 
garding  his  offer  to  row  her  across.  "  It's  a  hard 
service,"  he  thought,  "but  I've  enlisted  and  I'll 
see  it  through.  Thorny  damsel;  but  oh,  ye  gods, 
she's  sweet!" 

Forsyth  had  made  the  most  elaborate  toilet  his 
circumstances  permitted,  and  was  prepared  to 
make  the  best  of  his  coming  opportunity.  "Did 
you  see  George  this  afternoon?"  he  asked,  with 
feigned  carelessness. 

"I  did  not,"  returned  Beatrice,  with  a  toss  of 
her  head.  "  He  nearly  broke  down  the  Captain's 
door,  but  it  was  locked  and  nobody  let  him  in. 
He  was  talking  with  that  precious  dog  of  his  when 
I  came  out,  and  he  offered  to  row  me  overr  but  I 
came  by  myself." 

"  I  would  have  gone  after  you,"  said  Robert, 
with  ill-advised  eagerness. 


246          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Thank  you,"  she  answered  coolly;  "but  I'm 
not  so  old  yet  that  I  can't  row  fairly  well  on  still 
water." 

That  evening  Forsyth  had  the  felicity  of  sitting 
on  the  piazza,  with  Beatrice  beside  him,  while  his 
rival  dejectedly  led  Queen  round  and  round  the 
Fort.  His  efforts  at  entertainment  seemed  to  be 
unusually  happy  and  effective,  though  he  was  too 
obtuse  to  notice  that  she  laughed  only  when 
Ronald  was  in  sight  and,  presumably,  within 
hearing. 

Mackenzie  sat  with  them  for  a  while,  but  soon 
went  in.  "You  take  the  first  watch,"  he  said  to 
Robert,  "and  call  Chan  for  the  second.  I've  got 
to  get  up  early  in  the  morning,  anyway." 

"All  right,  sir." 

"Do  you  think  there's  any  use  of  watching?" 
she  asked,  when  the  trader  had  closed  the 
door. 

"  Of  course,"  answered  Robert,  promptly.  "  If 
we  were  all  asleep,  no  one  would  hear  the  gun  and 
we  might  all  be  taken  prisoners  before  we  had  a 
chance  to  get  to  the  Fort." 

"Have  you  always  watched  out  here?" 

"Yes,  a  part  of  the  night,  ever  since  we  knew 
war  had  been  declared." 

"It's  lonely,  is  n't  it?" 


Rivals  247 

"It  might  be,  but  I  always  have  something 
pleasant  to  think  about." 

Beatrice  did  not  press  the  question  further. 
"  What  time  does  the  first  watch  end?" 

"Oh,  along  about  midnight." 

"I'll  stay  with  you,"  said  the  girl  impulsively; 
"I  had  a  long  sleep  this  afternoon,  and  I'd  love 
to  help  watch.  May  I?" 

Robert's  heart  beat  loudly,  but  he  controlled 
his  voice.  "Of  course  you  may,"  he  said. 

When  Ronald's  task  was  finished,  he  led  Queen 
into  the  Fort.  "Twenty-four,"  mused  Beatrice. 
"He's  skipped  one,  or  else  I  did  n't  count 
right." 

"Twenty -four?"  repeated  Robert,  inquiringly. 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "He  had  to  take  Queen 
around  twenty-five  times  because  he  was  bad  this 
morning  and  tried  to  make  me  think  I'd  eaten 
Major.  I  don't  like  things  like  that." 

Robert  laughed  happily  and  felt  an  inexplic 
able  generosity  toward  Ronald.  "You  didn't 
count  right,"  he  assured  her.  "He  never  would 
skip." 

" Perhaps  not — anyhow,  I'll  let  it  go." 

The  hours  passed  as  if  on  wings,  and  both  were 
surprised  when  the  deep-toned  bell  at  the  Fort 


248          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

tolled  taps.  The  moon  rose  and  a  path  of  gold 
gleamed  on  the  water,  rippling  gently  with  the 
night  wind. 

"See,"  said  Beatrice,  softly,  "it's  always 
seemed  to  me  as  if  one  might  row  along  that  path, 
when  the  moon  is  low,  and  go  straight  in.  When 
I  was  a  child  I  used  to  think  that  I'd  do  it  as  soon 
as  I  got  old  enough  to  manage  a  boat  by  myself. 
I  wondered  why  nobody  ever  went  to  the  moon 
when  it  was  so  close,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  a 
fine  thing  if  I  could  be  the  first  one  to  go.  I 
could  n't  see  any  doors,  and  concluded  they  must 
be  on  the  other  side ;  but  I  was  sure  I  could  row 
around  when  I  got  there,  and  I  never  doubted  for 
an  instant  that  the  moon  people  would  be  de 
lighted  to  see  me.  What  strange  fancies  children 
have!" 

"You're  only  a  child  now,"  said  Robert,  husk 
ily, — "a  little,  helpless  child." 

"Helpless?"  repeated  Beatrice,  with  an  odd 
little  cadence  at  the  end  of  the  rising  inflection; 
"I've  never  been  told  that  before.  See  how 
strong  my  hands  are!" 

Laughing,  she  offered  a  small,  white,  dimpled 
hand  for  his  inspection.  With  an  inarticulate  cry 
he  bent  to  kiss  it,  and  she  snatched  it  away,  much 
offended. 


Rivals  249 

''You  presume,"  she  said,  coldly.  "Perhaps 
you  think  I'm  like  other  girls!" 

"You  are  different  from  everybody  in  the 
world,"  he  answered,  in  a  low,  tender  tone. 
"They  are  clay  like  the  rest  of  us,  only  of  a  finer 
sort,  but  you  are  a  bit  of  priceless  porcelain.  You 
are  made  of  flowers  and  stars  and  dreams — of 
sunlight  and  moonlight,  Spring  and  dawn.  All 
the  beauty  of  the  earth  has  gone  to  make  you — 
violets  for  your  eyes,  a  rose  for  your  mouth,  and 
white  morning-glories  for  your  hands.  When  you 
smile  it  is  like  the  light  of  a  midsummer  noon; 
when  you  laugh  it  is  the  music  of  falling  waters ; 
when  you  sing  to  yourself  it  is  like  a  bird  in  the 
wilderness,  breaking  one's  heart  with  the  exquis 
ite  sweetness  of  it.  Darling!  darling!"  he  cried, 
passionately;  "no  one  in  the  world  is  like  you!" 

Beatrice  was  trembling,  and  for  the  moment 
was  dumb.  Robert  stood  before  her  with  his 
hands  outstretched  in  pleading  until,  emboldened 
by  her  silence,  he  leaned  forward  to  take  her  into 
his  arms,  and  she  moved  swiftly  aside. 

"Very  pretty,"  she  said,  with  an  effort,  and  in 
a  matter-of-fact  tone,  then  she  laughed.  "I  did 
not  know  you  were  a  poet,"  she  continued,  rising 
and  shaking  out  her  skirts, — "the  moonlight  has 
made  you  mad." 


250          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Not  the  moonlight,  sweetheart,  but  you!" 

"Well,  the  two  of  us,  then,"  returned  Beatrice, 
lightly.  "It's  getting  late,  and  I  must  go." 

"No!"  he  cried.  "You  said  you  would  stay 
till  the  end  of  my  watch!" 

"  That  was  before  I  knew  you  were  a  poet.  No, 
I'm  going  back  by  myself — good-night,  and 
pleasant  dreams ! ' ' 

He  untied  the  pirogue  for  her  and  helped  her 
into  it,  his  senses  reeling  at  the  momentary  touch 
of  her  hand;  and  when  she  crossed  the  path  of 
gold  that  lay  upon  the  water,  the  light  shone  full 
upon  her  flower-like  face.  The  man's  blood 
surged  into  his  heart  with  rapturous  pain,  as,  ex 
quisite,  radiant,  and  unattainable,  she  passed 
through  the  gate  of  the  Fort  and  out  of  his  sight. 
He  stood  there  long  after  she  had  vanished, 
shaken  from  head  to  foot  by  a  passion  as  pure  and 
exalted  as  Sir  Galahad  might  have  felt  for  Elaine. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    WORM    TURNS 

BEATRICE,"  said  Mrs.  Mackenzie,  "what 
day  of  the  month  is  it?" 

11  The  eighth." 

"Why,  no,  it  isn't,"  put  in  Mackenzie;  "it's 
the  ninth— is  n't  it,  Rob?" 

"Certainly — the  ninth  of  August." 

"Have  it  your  own  way,"  pouted  Beatrice; 
"what  do  you  suppose  I  care?" 

"There's  George  across  the  river,"  observed 
Mrs.  Mackenzie.  "I  wonder  why  he  doesn't 
come  over!" 

"He's  busy,  I  guess,"  said  Robert;  "but  I 
think  he  will  be  over  this  afternoon." 

"How  do  you  know?"  inquired  Beatrice,  look 
ing  at  him  narrowly.  "You  haven't  seen  him 
to-day,  have  you?" 

"N — no,"  stammered  Robert,  uncomfortably. 
"I— I  just  thought  so."  For  the  first  time  he 

251 


252          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

saw  how  ridiculous,  from  one  point  of  view,  their 
arrangement  was,  and  became  more  anxious  than 
ever  to  keep  Beatrice  in  ignorance  of  it.  Still,  it 
had  worked  well,  for  neither  had  made  any  evident 
progress  and  their  friendship  was  still  unbroken. 

During  the  past  week  the  girl  had  not  failed  to 
observe  that  she  never  saw  Ronald  and  Forsyth 
together,  except  from  her  window,  and  had  asked 
each  of  them  in  turn  if  there  had  been  a  quarrel. 
She  had  also  noticed  that  her  admirers  were  spas 
modic,  as  it  were,  in  their  attentions,  and  had 
puzzled  vainly  over  the  fact.  It  seemed  strange 
that,  at  the  Fort,  Ronald  should  leave  her  when 
Forsyth  put  in  an  appearance;  or  that  when  she 
sat  on  the  piazza,  at  the  trading  station,  Forsyth 
should  immediately  find  something  else  to  do 
when  Ronald  came  across  the  river. 

The  Ensign  had  taken  Queen  out  for  the  ap 
pointed  exercise  and  was  wondering  how  to  kill 
the  time  until  noon.  He  was  staring  vacantly 
into  space  at  the  very  moment  Robert  had  said 
he  was  "busy,"  but  he  soon  decided  to  wash 
Major  in  the  river. 

In  spite  of  the  heat  the  dog  regarded  the  cere 
mony  as  a  punishment  rather  than  a  luxury,  and 
cowered  as  if  from  a  blow  when  his  master  re 
moved  his  coat  and  rolled  up  his  sleeeves.  The 


The  Worm  Turns  253 

basin  of  soft  soap  which  Doctor  Norton  brought, 
in  answer  to  a  loud  request  from  Ronald,  was 
placed  conveniently  on  the  bank  and  operations 
began. 

Beatrice  was  leaning  on  the  gate,  in  the  shade 
of  the  poplar,  and  chose  to  consider  the  affair  as 
undertaken  solely  for  her  amusement.  "  Is  n't  it 
nice  of  Mr.  Ronald,"  she  said,  with  mock  grati 
tude,  "  to  wash  Major  where  we  can  all  see  him  do 
it!  If  he  were  selfish,  he'd  take  him  away." 

Protesting  barks  from  the  victim  punctuated 
her  comment.  "  If  he  were  selfish,"  replied  Rob 
ert,  pleasantly,  "he  would  n't  do  it  at  all." 

"  I  have  a  mind  to  go  over  there,"  said  the  girl, 
suddenly. 

"Oh,  don't!"  begged  Robert,  with  feeling. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Oh— because." 

"A  woman's  reason,"  said  Beatrice,  scornfully. 
"I'm  going,  anyhow." 

Robert  was  allowed  to  row  her  across,  as  a 
great  favour;  and  Ronald,  mindful  of  his  agree 
ment,  was  not  particularly  cordial. 

"  I  don't  believe  he  likes  it  because  I've  come," 
she  said,  to  Doctor  Norton. 

"Oh,  yes,  he  does,"  the  Doctor  assured  her, 
gallantly. 


254          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Do  you?"  she  inquired,  directly,  of  Ronald. 

"Certainly." 

The  Ensign's  face  was  red,  partly  because  of 
his  exertions  and  partly  because  of  various  con 
cealed  emotions.  Major  had  been  thoroughly 
lathered  with  soft  soap,  and  was  being  rinsed  with 
basin  after  basin  of  water,  whining,  meanwhile, 
because  soap  was  in  his  eyes. 

"  There,"  said  Ronald,  when  the  black  and  white 
coat  was  thoroughly  clean,  "he'll  be  a  beauty 
when  he's  dry — won't  you,  Major?" 

The  dog  shook  himself  vigorously  and  sprinkled 
every  one  except  Beatrice,  who  was  out  of  range. 
"Indeed  he  will,"  she  answered,  with  suspicious 
warmth.  "It's  strange,  is  n't  it,  how  washing 
improves  pets?" 

Forsyth  began  to  dread  what  was  coming,  but 
Ronald  heedlessly  stumbled  into  the  snare.  "Of 
course  it  improves  'em,"  he  said.  "It's  worth 
doing,  if  only  for  artistic  reasons." 

Her  eyes  danced  and  the  dimples  came  and 
went  at  the  corners  of  her  mouth .  "I  would  like, ' ' 
she  began  demurely,  "to  have  Queen  washed." 

"Lord!"  muttered  the  Ensign,  mopping  his 
forehead  with  his  sleeve. 

"Will  you  do  it  for  me,  Mr,  Ronald?"  she  con 
tinued  coaxingly. 


The  Worm  Turns  255 

For  an  instant  he  hesitated,  then  the  worm 
turned.  "No,"  he  said  quietly,  "I  won't.  You 
can  wash  your  own  horse." 

"Will  you,  Cousin  Rob?"  she  asked  sweetly, 
turning  to  Forsyth. 

The  dull  colour  bronzed  his  face  and  he  saw  a 
steely  glitter  in  Ronald's  blue  eyes.  "No,"  he 
answered,  emboldened  by  the  other's  example; 
"not  by  any  means." 

"I  haven't  any  friends,"  remarked  Beatrice, 
sadly,  to  the  Doctor. 

"Friends  are  one  thing,"  retorted  Ronald, 
hotly,  "and  body  servants  are  another.  I'm 
willing  to  lead  your  horse  around,  because  it's  too 
hot  for  you  to  ride  her,  and  I  would  n't  want  to  be 
seen  riding  a  nag  like  that  anyhow;  but  I  wont 
bathe  her  nor  comb  her  hair  nor  put  on  her 
shoes."  He  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  away, 
the  personification  of  offended  dignity. 

Beatrice  laughed,  while  Forsyth  and  the  Doctor 
looked  at  her  in  amazement.  "Oh,"  she  gasped, 
"isn't  he — isn't  he  funny  when  he's  mad!" 
Ronald  strode  into  the  Fort  and  gave  no  sign  of 
having  heard,  save  by  a  tell-tale  redness  of  the 
ears. 

Robert  felt  concerned  in  a  way,  but  the  Doctor 
was  not.  "You'll  find,  Miss  Manning,"  he  said 


256          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

judicially,  "  as  you  grow  older,  that  there's  a  limit 
to  everything  and  everybody." 

"Of  course,"  returned  the  girl,  seriously;  "I 
was  just  locating  it." 

"  Shall  we  go  back,  now?"  asked  Robert. 

" No ;   I'm  going  to  see  Katherine." 

"  Very  well."  He  started  toward  the  Fort  with 
her  and  Norton  followed  them. 

"What?"  she  asked;  "are  you  both  coming, 
too?" 

"I'm  not,"  said  the  Doctor,  quietly. 

"Are  you,  Cousin  Rob?" 

"Of  course — I'm  going  wherever  you  do." 

Ronald  was  talking  with  Mrs.  Franklin,  and 
did  not  seem  to  see  the  two  who  went  to  the 
Lieutenant's.  Robert  brought  chairs  for  Mrs. 
Howard  and  Beatrice  and  seated  himself  on  the 
upper  step. 

' ' Where 's  George ? ' '  asked  Katherine.  "Isn't 
he  coming  over  ? "  She  had  grown  accustomed  to 
seeing  the  three  together,  and  vaguely  missed 
Ronald. 

"  He  was  bad,"  explained  the  girl,  fanning  her 
self  with  her  handkerchief,  "and  I  think  he's 
ashamed  to  come." 

"Bad— how?" 

"  He  would  n't  wash  Queen.     I  asked  him  to, 


The  Worm  Turns  257 

and  he  said  he  would  n't.  Cousin  Rob  would  n't, 
either." 

"Well,  I  don't  blame  them.  You  seem  to  ex 
pect  a  good  deal,  Bee." 

"Oh,"  laughed  Beatrice,  "how  serious  you  all 
are!  I  believe  Mr.  Ronald  and  Cousin  Rob 
thought  I  meant  it!" 

"You  seemed  to,"  put  in  Robert,  in  self -justifi 
cation. 

"Men  are  very  stupid,"  she  observed,  dispas 
sionately;  "but  suppose  I  did  mean  it — what 
then?  Were  you  in  earnest  when  you  said  you 
wouldn't?" 

"Yes,"  said  Robert,  steadfastly;  "whether  you 
were  joking  or  not,  I  was  in  earnest,  and  so  was 
Ronald." 

Hitherto,  men  had  not  openly  defied  the  girl's 
imperious  will,  and  she  had  the  sensation  of  unex 
pectedly  encountering  a  brick  wall.  "  Would  you 
mind  going  over  after  my  sewing?"  she  asked, 
suddenly. 

"  Certainly  not — where  is  it?" 

"Aunt  Eleanor  knows." 

"You're  a  sad  flirt,  Bee,"  remarked  Mrs.  How 
ard,  as  Forsyth  went  out  of  the  Fort. 

"I    am   not,"    retorted    Beatrice,    with   spirit. 

"Why  should  n't  he  go  after  my  sewing?" 
17 


258          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

4 'There's  no  reason  why  he  shouldn't,  if  he 
wants  to." 

"Well,  he  wants  to,"  replied  Beatrice,  " other 
wise  he  would  n't.  That's  the  man  of  it." 

"It  seems  strange,"  observed  the  other,  med 
itatively,  "  that  in  a  little  place  like  this,  on  the 
very  edge  of  the  frontier,  one  girl  can  keep  two 
men  working  hard  all  the  time  without  half  trying. 
On  the  face  of  it,  there  would  n't  seem  to  be 
enough  to  do." 

"It  requires  talent,"  admitted  Beatrice,  mod 
estly,  "if  not  genius.  Mr.  Ronald!"  she  called. 

The  Ensign  did  not  seem  to  hear.  "Mr.  Ron 
ald!"  she  called  again.  There  was  no  answer, 
though  he  must  have  heard. 

"He's  in  the  sulks,"  explained  Beatrice,  "and 
if  he  wants  to  stay  there,  he  can." 

"  I  wish  you  would  n't  do  so,  Bee,"  said  Kath- 
erine,  kindly. 

"Do  what?"  demanded  Beatrice,  with  her 
violet  eyes  wide  open. 

"  You  know  what  you  're  doing,  and  you  need  n't 
pretend  that  you  don't." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  then  Beatrice  sighed 
heavily.  "I  think  I'll  move,"  she  said.  "I  can 
go  to  Detroit,  or  Fort  Mackinac,  or  back  East." 

Katherine's  heart  sank  within  her,  for  she  knew 


The  Worm  Turns  259 

she  would  miss  the  girl  more  than  words  could 
express.  "You  can't  go,"  she  said;  "no  one 
would  go  with  you." 

"  I  should  hope  not.  Queen  and  I  could  make 
the  trip  alone.  If  I  decide  to  go,  why,  I'll  go — 
that's  all  there  is  about  it,  war  or  no  war.  I 
know  where  the  pickets  are  and  I  could  get 
through  the  lines  without  any  trouble.  If  you 
miss  me  some  morning,  you'll  know  that  I've 
made  my  escape  to  some  peaceful  spot  where 
there  is  no  lecturing." 

She  spoke  with  such  calm  assurance  that  Kath- 
erine  was  troubled.  She  swiftly  determined  to 
ask  Captain  Franklin  to  put  an  extra  guard  at  the 
stables,  then  Beatrice  laughed. 

"Poor  Kit,"  she  said  affectionately,  "why,  you 
look  as  solemn  as  a  priest !  You  don't  think  I  'd 
go  away  and  leave  you,  do  you?  You're  too 
sweet,"  she  cooed,  rubbing  her  soft  cheek  against 
her  cousin's. 

Forsyth,  coming  back  with  the  sewing,  was 
transfixed  with  sudden  envy  of  Mrs.  Howard. 
"  I  thought  you  were  never  coming,"  said  the  girl, 
smiling. 

"Did  it  seem  long?"  he  asked,  dazed  by  the 
implied  compliment,  for  he  had  been  in  great 
haste. 


260          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Yes,"  said  Beatrice;  "but  it  wasn't  your 
fault.  It  was  because  I  was  being  lectured." 

Katherine's  face  grew  delicately  pink,  and  she 
looked  at  Beatrice  imploringly. 

"Lectured!"  repeated  Forsyth.  "Why,  what 
for?" 

"  She  said  I  flirted — with  you  and  Mr.  Ronald." 

"When?" 

"Oh,  you  goose,"  laughed  Beatrice.  "She 
meant  I  did  it  all  the  time;  but  you  don't  care, 
do  you?" 

"I  don't  know  just  what  it  is,"  said  Robert, 
truthfully;  "but  if  it's  anything  you  do,  I  like 
it." 

"There!"  said  the  girl,  in  a  tone  of  great  satis 
faction;  "you  see,  don't  you,  Kit?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Howard,  "  I  see  that  you 
are  incorrigible." 

Forsyth  was  content  to  listen  and  to  watch 
Beatrice  as  she  sewed.  Prosaic  needles  and 
thread  assumed  a  mysterious  charm  in  the  dim 
pled  hands  of  the  girl  he  loved.  Pretty  frowns 
and  troubled  shadows  flitted  across  her  face  as  the 
thread  knotted,  twisted,  or  broke,  as  it  frequently 
did,  because  she  was  not  familiar  with  her  task. 

Ronald  left  Captain  Franklin's  and  came  across 
the  parade-ground  with  a  rapid  stride.  "Twelve 


The  Worm  Turns  261 

o'clock!"  he  said,  with  a  radiant  smile.  "You 
would  n't  think  it,  would  you?"  he  added. 

"  I  should  n't  have  suspected  it,"  answered  For- 
syth,  with  double  meaning;  "I  must  be  going 
back." 

"  I'll  go  with  you,  Cousin  Rob." 

"Me,  too,"  put  in  Ronald,  joyously. 

"You  need  n't,"  said  the  girl,  coolly. 

"  I  'd  just  as  soon — I  'm  going  to  row  you  across." 

" No,  you're  not;  I  came  with  Cousin  Rob  and 
I'm  going  back  with  him." 

"Suit  yourself,"  returned  the  Ensign,  good- 
humouredly,  "the  river  is  a  public  highway;  but 
I'm  going  over  to  dinner." 

He  was  there  first,  and  had  wheedled  an  invita 
tion  from  Mrs.  Mackenzie  before  they  got  into  the 
house.  "Put  me  next  to  Beatrice,  please,"  he 
said,  as  they  came  in. 

During  dinner  every  one  was  in  high  spirits 
except  Robert,  who  knew  that  he  must  efface 
himself  all  the  afternoon.  Some  way,  it  was 
harder  to  have  Ronald  there  than  to  know  that 
he  was  with  her  at  the  Fort. 

However,  he  felt  a  wicked  thrill  of  satisfaction 
when  Beatrice  pushed  back  her  chair  and  began 
to  gather  up  the  dishes.  "  You  need  n't  do  that, 
Bee"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Mackenzie. 


262  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"I'm  going  to  help  you,  Aunty,  and  then  I'm 
going  to  take  a  nap.  I'm  dreadfully  sleepy." 

Ronald's  face  fell.  "You're  lazy,"  he  said 
reproachfully. 

"No,  I'm  not,"  she  returned;  "but  I  have  to 
get  rested,  because  to-morrow  I  'm  going  to  wash 
Queen." 

"Beatrice  Manning!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Macken 
zie.  "  What  in  the  world  do  you  mean?" 

"I'll  tell  you  all  about  it,  Aunt  Eleanor."  In 
her  own  mind  Beatrice  had  determined  to  make 
a  pretence  at  Queen's  bath  the  next  morning,  in 
front  of  the  Fort,  and  see  who  would  offer  to  help 
her. 

"I'm  going  to  help  with  the  dishes,  too,"  an 
nounced  Ronald. 

"You  needn't,  George,"  said  Mrs.  Mackenzie. 

"I'd  rather  he  wouldn't,"  remarked  Beatrice, 
critically,  "because  I  don't  think  he's  clean.  He 
washed  Major  this  morning." 

The  shaft  glanced  aside  harmlessly,  because  he 
prided  himself  upon  his  neatness.  "I  got  my 
hand  in  this  morning,"  he  said  imperturbably, 
"and  I've  washed  many  a  dish  in  this  very 
kitchen,  long  before  you  came,  Miss  Bee;  did 
n't  I,  Aunt  Eleanor?" 

"Indeed  you  did,"  answered  Mrs.  Mackenzie, 


The  Worm  Turns  263 

warmly.  "  I  don't  know  how  I  could  have  man 
aged  without  you." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  girl,  lightly;  "as  long 
as  you're  used  to  it,  and  since  you  insist  upon 
doing  it,  I'll  go  and  take  my  nap  right  now." 

Robert,  inwardly  joyous,  but  outwardly  calm, 
took  his  well-thumbed  copy  of  Shakespeare  and 
went  out  to  read  under  the  trees,  while  Mrs.  Mac 
kenzie  and  the  Ensign  laboured  with  the  dishes, 
and  Beatrice  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  she  came 
out,  her  eyes  still  languorous  under  their  drooping 
lids,  and  found  Ronald  sitting  alone  upon  the 
piazza. 

"Why,  I  didn't  expect  to  see  you  here,"  she 
said,  in  a  tone  of  pleased  surprise. 

"You  aren't  very  well  acquainted  with  me," 
murmured  Ronald,  twisting  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"I'd  like  to  be,"  remarked  Beatrice,  with  a 
winning  smile. 

"Now's  your  chance,  then,  for  I'm  going  to 
stay  here  until  six  o'clock." 

"That's  a  long  time,"  sighed  the  girl,  with  a 
sidelong  glance  at  him.  "It  is  n't  much  after 
four  now." 

He   cleared   his   throat   and   coloured   deeply. 


264          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

While  he  was  casting  about  for  a  suitable  reply, 
Forsyth  appeared  with  his  book.  "Come  and 
read  to  us,  Cousin  Rob,"  said  Beatrice,  sweetly. 

Ronald  looked  daggers  at  him  when  he  hesit 
ated.  "  Can ' t , "  he  answered  shortly ;  "I'm  going 
to  read  to  myself." 

He  went  back  to  his  place  under  the  poplars, 
in  sight,  but  not  intentionally  within  hearing,  and 
Ronald  was  unreasonably  vexed  with  him,  deem 
ing  him  outside  the  spirit,  though  within  the  let 
ter  of  the  bond. 

"I'm  sorry  he  would  n't  read  to  us,"  observed 
Beatrice.  "Cousin  Rob  has  such  a  deep,  melodi 
ous  voice,  don't  you  think  so?" 

The  Ensign  was  writhing  inwardly,  but  man 
aged  to  say,  "Yes;  very  deep." 

Mackenzie  came  out  and  wasted  half  of  a 
precious  hour  in  talking,  though  Ronald  answered 
only  in  monosyllables.  Beatrice  exerted  her 
rarest  powers  of  entertainment  for  her  uncle's 
benefit,  and  he  did  not  notice  how  the  time 
passed. 

"Well,"  he  said,  at  length,  "I  guess  I'll  go 
across  for  a  bit.  I  want  to  see  the  Captain." 
Forsyth  joined  him  at  the  gate,  and  Ronald 
heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  when  they  were  safely  on 
their  way  to  the  Fort. 


The  Worm  Turns  265 

"Your  face  is  red,  Mr.  Ronald,"  said  Beatrice. 
She  was  rewarded  by  seeing  the  colour  deepen. 

"  What  makes  it  that  way  ? "  she  asked,  with  the 
air  of  one  pursuing  a  subject  of  scientific  interest. 

"It's  the  heat,"  explained  the  Ensign,  miser 
ably  ;  "  did  n't  you  know  it  was  hot  ? " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  never  know  anything 
unless  I'm  told." 

"  I  believe  you,"  he  growled. 

"Mr.  Ronald,"  she  said,  with  a  bewildering 
smile,  "what  makes  you  so  cross  to  me?" 

"I — I'm  not,"  he  answered  thickly. 

"Yes,  you  are — you're  dreadfully  cross  to  me, 
but  you  seem  to  get  on  all  right  with  everybody 
else.  I  don't  believe  you  like  me!" 

The  last  remnant  of  his  self-control  deserted 
him.  "No,  I  don't,"  he  said,  hotly.  "Good 
God,  Beatrice,  I  love  you — can't  you  see  that? 
Why  do  you  torture  me  all  the  time  ? ' ' 

Her  face  grew  a  shade  paler,  and  her  eyes  re 
fused  to  meet  his.  She  knew  she  had  been  play 
ing  with  fire,  but  none  the  less  was  surprised  at  the 
natural  result,  and  was  genuinely  sorry  that  she 
had  gone  so  far.  She  stared  at  the  Fort,  unsee 
ing,  and  inwardly  reproached  herself  bitterly. 

"Beatrice!"  he  gasped.  "Say  something  to 
me,  can't  you?" 


266          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

She  pointed  to  a  cloud  of  dust  in  the  south-west. 
"Look,  some  one  is  coming!" 

"I  don't  care,"  he  said,  roughly,  possessing 
himself  of  her  hand;  "you've  got  to  say  some 
thing  to  me ! ' ' 

"  I  did,"  she  returned,  drawing  away  from  him, 
"I  told  you  somebody  was  coming.  I  think  it's 
my  relatives  from  Fort  Wayne  coming  to  take  me 
back  there." 

Ronald  turned  away,  deeply  pained,  and  the 
pathetic  droop  in  his  shoulders  got  safely  through 
the  thorns  to  the  girl's  heart.  The  cloud  of  dust 
came  nearer  and  nearer,  until  at  last  the  rider 
turned  his  foam-flecked  horse  and  dashed  up  the 
esplanade  to  the  Fort. 

Beatrice's  temporary  tenderness  was  obscured 
by  curiosity,  for  the  rider  was  an  Indian,  with  the 
British  flag  girded  at  his  loins. 

"Why,"  she  said,  in  an  odd  little  voice,  "what 
has  happened!" 

Ronald  came  swiftly  toward  her.  "I  don't 
know  and  I  don't  care,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  she 
scarcely  recognised;  then  he  put  his  arm  around 
her  and  drew  her  to  him.  "  Beatrice,  darling,"  he 
pleaded,  "have  n't  you  a  word  for  me — don't  you 
love  me  just  the  least  little  bit  in  the  world?" 

Then  the  violet  eyes  looked  up  into  his  and  the 


The  Worm  Turns  267 

sweet  lips  quivered.  "I — I  don't  know,"  she 
whispered  brokenly ;  ' '  please  let  me  go ! " 

His  arms  fell  to  his  sides  and  she  was  free,  but 
there  was  a  lump  in  his  throat  and  a  wild  hope  in 
his  heart.  "My  darling,"  he  began,  but  she 
stopped  him  with  a  warning  gesture. 

Forsyth  was  pulling  across  the  river  as  if  his 
life  depended  upon  it,  and  for  the  first  time  they 
perceived  that  something  was  wrong.  With  his 
face  white  and  every  muscle  of  his  body  tense,  he 
ran  toward  them. 

"What's  up?"  shouted  Ronald. 

"Orders!"  cried  Forsyth,  gasping  for  breath. 
"Fort  Mackinac  has  fallen  and  we  are  ordered  to 
evacuate  the  post ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A    COUNCIL   OF    WAR 

FORSYTH  had  the  second  watch  that  night, 
and  Mackenzie  came  out  to  join  him.  "  I 
could  n't  sleep,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  Robert's 
question.  "  I  don't  know  what  we're  coming  to, 
but  we  must  n't  frighten  the  women." 

"Of  course  I  don't  know  anything  about  it," 
Robert  returned,  "but  I  must  confess  that  I 
did  n't  like  the  looks  of  that  Indian  who  brought 
the  despatches." 

"He  seemed  fair  enough,  but  you  can't  trust 
any  of  'em  and  that's  the  whole  truth  of  it. 
There's  been  some  foul  play  somewhere,  for 
he  knew  the  purport  of  the  order,  and  it 
strikes  me  that  he  had  been  a  long  time  on  the 
way." 

"  What  was  it  that  he  wanted  you  to  tell  Cap 
tain  Franklin?" 

"He  wanted  me  to  find  out  whether  the  Cap- 
268 


A  Council  of  War  269 

tain  intended  to  obey  the  order,  and  offered  his 
advice  to  the  contrary.  He  said  the  Fort  was 
well  supplied  with  ammunition  and  provisions — 
though  it  beats  me  to  know  where  he  found  it  out 
— and  that  it  could  be  held  until  reinforcements 
arrived ;  but,  if  we  decided  to  give  up  the  post,  it 
was  better  to  go  at  once  and  leave  everything 
standing.  His  idea  was  that  the  Indians  would  be 
so  interested  in  plundering  that  they  would  n't 
follow  us." 

"What  did  Franklin  say?" 

"Nothing — he  never  says  much,  you  know." 

"Who  gave  the  order?" 

"General  Hull — the  Army  of  the  North-west  is 
at  Detroit." 

"  Perhaps  reinforcements  will  be  sent." 

"Hardly,  in  the  face  of  an  order  to  leave  the 
post." 

"Why  did  he  wear  the  British  flag?" 

"  Perhaps  to  secure  safe  passage  through  the 
country ;  perhaps  to  indicate  an  alliance  with  the 
enemy." 

' '  Lieutenant  Howard  has  said  all  along  that  the 
Indians  were  with  the  British  and  against  us.  It 
begins  to  look  as  though  he  were  right." 

"My  boy,"  said  Mackenzie,  with  a  sigh,  "wher 
ever  that  flag  waves,  you'll  find  blood.  The 


270          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

colour  of  it  is  n't  an  accident — it 's  a  challenge 
and  a  warning." 

"  Well,"  returned  Robert,  after  a  silence,  "we'll 
have  to  do  the  best  we  can,  and  that 's  all  any  one 
can  do." 

"I've  wondered  sometimes,"  said  the  other, 
thoughtfully,  "if  1  haven't  done  wrong." 

"How,  Uncle?" 

"Coming  here — with  Eleanor.  I've  brought 
her  into  danger,  but  God  knows  I  have  n't  meant 
to.  I've  always  had  an  adventurous  spirit,  and 
I  could  n't  live  in  the  East — the  hills  choke  me. 
Somebody  has  to  blaze  the  trail  to  the  new  places, 
and  I  thought  I  might  as  well  do  it  as  anybody 
else.  Things  are  moving  westward,  and  some 
day,  in  this  valley,  there  ought  to  be  a  great  city 
about  where  the  Fort  stands  now.  It's  the  place 
for  it — the  river  and  the  lake,  with  good  farming 
country  all  around.  I  knew  I  could  n't  live  to 
see  it,  but  I — I  thought  my  children  might." 

The  man's  voice  wavered,  but  did  not  break. 
"It's  a  commonplace  thing  to  do,"  he  went  on, — 
"go  to  a  new  place  to  live, — and  our  people  have 
been  doing  it  for  more  than  two  centuries.  No 
soldiery,  no  blare  of  trumpets,  nothing  to  make 
it  seem  fine — only  discomfort,  privation,  and  dan 
ger.  The  first  settlers  came  from  across  the 


A  Council  of  War  271 

water,  and  since  then  we've  been  moving  along, 
a  step  or  two  at  a  time.  Some  day,  perhaps, 
people  will  leave  this  place  to  go  to  another  far 
ther  on,  and  so  keep  going,  till  we  reach  the  ocean 
on  the  other  side.  I  have  n't  done  anything,"  he 
added,  with  a  short  laugh,  "only  what  the  men 
of  our  race  must  do  for  a  century  and  more  to 
come." 

"  You've  done  what  was  right,  Uncle,  and  what 
seemed  for  the  best — no  one  could  do  more. 
You've  given  Aunt  Eleanor  and  the  children  a 
good  home — shelter,  warmth,  food,  and  clothing. 
You've  given  your  children  sound  minds,  sound 
bodies,  free  air  to  breathe,  and  you're  giving  them 
an  education.  You'll  find  danger  anywhere  and 
everywhere — life  hangs  by  a  thread  at  its  best. 
If  it  comes  to  a  fight,  we  have  arms  and  ammuni 
tion  and  fifty  men,  as  strong  and  true  as  steel. 
We  have  modern  weapons  against  arrows  and 
tomahawks,  military  skill  against  savage  in 
stincts;  and  as  for  the  British,  why,  I  have  my 
grandfather's  sword,  that  fought  them  once  at 
Lexington.  They  tried  it  and  they  failed — 
they'll  fail  again;  but  I  say,  let  them  come!" 

"  God  bless  you,  boy ;  you  put  new  courage  into 
me!" 

Soft  darkness  lay  upon  the  earth,   and  pale 


272          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

stars  shone  fitfully  from  behind  the  clouds  as 
slowly  the  night  passed  by.  Across  the  river, 
with  measured  tread,  the  sentries  kept  guard  at 
the  Fort.  Through  one  watch  and  well  into  an 
other  the  two  men  sat  there  talking,  with  their 
voices  lowered,  lest  the  sleepers  in  the  house 
should  wake,  and  from  each  other  taking  heart 
for  the  morrow. 

The  spirit  of  his  dead  fathers  lived  again  in 
Forsyth;  the  blood  that  burned  at  Lexington 
took  fire  once  more  at  Fort  Dearborn.  His  heart 
beat  high  with  that  resolute  courage  which  sees 
the  end  only,  with  no  thought  of  the  possible 
cost — it  was  as  though  Victory,  in  passing,  to 
hover  just  beyond  him,  had  brushed  his  face  with 
her  blood-stained  wings. 

In  the  first  light  of  morning,  Beatrice  came 
across  the  river  from  the  Fort.  Whether  she 
knew  of  the  impending  danger  or  not,  she  showed 
no  signs  of  fear.  "Well,"  she  said,  "it  was  only 
yesterday  that  I  told  Kit  I  thought  I  'd  move,  and 
here's  a  military  order  to  make  it  practicable. 
We're  going  with  the  soldiers — Queen  and  I." 

Forsyth  smiled,  but  made  no  other  answer,  and 
she  went  on  into  the  house.  Mrs.  Mackenzie  did 
not  appear,  having  passed  a  sleepless  night;  so 


A  Council  of  War  273 

Beatrice  presided  over  the  coffee-pot  and  made 
breakfast  a  gay  affair.  She  revelled  in  her  new 
authority,  and  took  advantage  of  her  position  to 
tease  the  children. 

"Maria  Indiana,"  she  said,  with  mock  severity, 
"you'll  have  to  behave  yourself  better  from  now 
out,  because  I'm  your  mother." 

The  child's  eyes  filled  and  a  big  tear  rolled  down 
one  cheek.  She  slid  out  of  her  chair  and  instinc 
tively  went  to  Robert,  as  one  who  might  be 
trusted.  "Is  Tuzzin  Bee  my  muzzer?"  she 
asked  plaintively. 

"No,  dear,"  he  laughed,  taking  her  up  in  his 
arms. 

"  Give  her  to  me ! "  cried  Beatrice,  snatching  her 
away  from  him.  "You  darling,"  she  said  ten 
derly,  as  another  tear  followed  the  first  one ;  "  I  'm 
not  your  '  muzzer,' — I  'm  only  your  '  Tuzzin  Bee.' ' 

"  She's  too  little  to  joke  with,"  said  Forsyth,  in 
an  aside. 

"And  I'm  too  big  to  be  lectured,"  replied  Bea 
trice,  with  a  saucy  smile.  "We  get  on  all  right, 
don't  we,  baby?" 

Something  in  the  girl's  attitude,  as  she  held  the 
child  in  her  arms,  reminded  Forsyth  of  a  picture 
of  the  Madonna,  and  an  unreasoning  giddiness 
took  possession  of  his  senses.  With  a  blind 

18 


274          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

impulse  to  get  away,  he  went  out  on  the  piazza, 
but  Beatrice  followed  him. 

"Cousin  Rob,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "please 
tell  me  the  truth — is  there  danger?" 

There  was  no  denial  of  that  look  in  the  eyes  of 
the  girl  he  loved,  no  chance  to  conceal  the  truth. 
He  drew  a  quick  inward  breath  as  he  thought,  for 
the  first  time,  what  danger  might  mean  to  her. 
"Yes,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  was  scarcely  aud 
ible;  "  I  am  afraid  there  is." 

In  a  flash  he  saw  that  she  had  misunderstood 
him,  but  it  was  too  late  to  explain.  The  colour 
flamed  into  her  cheeks,  and  she  held  her  head 
high.  "  I'm  sorry  you're  afraid,"  she  said,  scorn 
fully,  "I'm  not!" 

He  looked  after  her  helplessly  as  she  went  into 
the  house,  dazed  by  the  consciousness  that  he 
had  lost  her  forever.  He  knew  then  that  she  had 
never  forgotten  his  failure  to  go  up-stream  with 
Ronald  the  night  the  Indians  had  been  at  Lee's, 
even  though  she  had  asked  him  to  forgive  her. 

"  I  have  lost  her,"  he  said  to  himself,  over  and 

over  again, — "  I  have  lost  her."     Second  thought 

» 

convinced  him  that  he  had  had  no  chance  from  the 
beginning — since  the  night  he  leaned  on  his  musket 
in  the  shelter  of  the  Fort;  confused  past  the  power 
of  action,  when  the  Ensign  asked  for  volunteers. 


A  Council  of  War  275 

"Want  to  go  over,  Rob?"  It  was  Mackenzie 
who  asked  the  question,  and  Forsyth  gladly  wel 
comed  the  respite  from  his  torturing  thoughts. 

At  the  Fort  all  was  changed,  for  the  order  had 
been  read  that  morning  on  parade,  and  the  men 
stood  about  in  little  groups  earnestly  discussing 
it.  Mrs.  Franklin  and  Katherine  were  on  the 
porch  at  the  Lieutenant's,  and  Robert  went  there, 
feeling  that  their  society  would  be  more  bearable 
than  that  of  the  men. 

"If  we  go,"  said  Katherine,  "there'll  be  very 
little  we  can  take  with  us." 

"  If  we  go!"  snapped  Mrs.  Franklin.  "  Do  you 
think  for  a  minute  we're  not  going?  A  soldier's 
first  duty  is  to  obey  orders!" 

Katherine  turned  a  shade  paler  as  she  wel 
comed  Forsyth.  "Have  you  packed  your  be 
longings?"  she  asked. 

"Not  yet,"  he  answered,  with  a  hollow  laugh. 
The  impending  danger  was  obscured,  in  his  mind, 
by  something  of  infinitely  more  moment.  "  When 
do  we  start?"  he  inquired  of  Mrs.  Franklin. 

"  I  don't  know — Wallace  has  n't  decided.  But 
we'll  start  when  he  says  we  will,  and  nobody  need 
think  we  won't!" 

"Kit,"  said  Mackenzie,  as  he  joined  the  group, 
"  I  wish  you'd  go  over  to  your  mother — she  is  n't 


276          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

well.  Bee  is  with  her,  but  perhaps  you  could  do 
something." 

"I'll  go  at  once,"  replied  Katherine. 

"And  I  must  go  home,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin. 
"If  I  can  do  anything,  just  let  me  know." 

Ronald  and  Lieutenant  Howard  were  standing 
near  the  gate,  and  Forsyth  stopped  there  when 
Mackenzie  and  Katherine  went  on  home.  "It's 
usual  in  such  circumstances,"  Ronald  was  saying, 
bitterly,  "to  call  a  council  of  war." 

"And  by  the  Lord,"  flashed  the  Lieutenant, 
"there  shall  be  a  council  of  war !  What  are  we — 
children,  or  fools?" 

Ronald  put  a  friendly  arm  across  Forsyth 's 
shoulders.  "What  do  you  think  about  it,  old 
man?" 

"I  haven't  thought  about  it.  I'm  not  a  sol 
dier,  you  know,  and  I'm  not  supposed  to  think. 
Of  course,  I'll  obey  orders,  and  if  it  comes  to 
trouble,  here's  one  more  man  to  fight — I'm  with 
you  to  the  last." 

"Bully  for  you!"  said  Ronald.  "If  the  Cap 
tain  would  listen  to  reason,  there  would  n't  be 
any  trouble ;  but  he  won't  —  I  know  him  too 
well." 

"He  is  only  one  man,"  put  in  the  Lieutenant, 
with  sinister  significance. 


A  Council  of  War  277 

"And  he  is  our  superior  officer,"  concluded 
Ronald.  ' '  Hello,  Norton ! ' ' 

The  Doctor  and  the  Lieutenant  exchanged  cool 
salutations.  The  faces  of  the  others  were  clouded, 
but  the  Doctor  was  as  serene  as  the  clear  blue  sky 
overhead.  "Haven't  you  heard?"  asked  For- 
syth,  in  astonishment. 

"What's  the  odds?"  queried  Norton,  with  a 
cynical  shrug  of  his  broad  shoulders.  "  So  far,  we 
have  one  life  and  one  death ;  at  the  end  of  one  we 
meet  the  other — how  does  it  matter,  when  or 
which  way  ? ' ' 

"It  matters  to  me,"  said  Ronald,  huskily, 
"whether  I  die  like  a  soldier  or  like  a  beast." 

"'Imperial  Caesar,  dead  and  turned  to  clay,' 
quoted  Norton,  suggestively.  "Clay  we  were  in 
the  beginning  and  clay  we  shall  be  at  the  end. 
'  Dust  thou  art;  to  dust  shalt  thou  return.' ' 

Lieutenant  Howard's  white  teeth  showed  in  a 
sarcastic  smile,  but  he  said  nothing.  He  seemed 
interested  and  even  amused  by  the  surgeon's 
point  of  view. 

"That's  all  very  well  for  you,"  retorted  Ron 
ald,  "because  you're  a  selfish  brute,  with  water 
in  your  veins  instead  of  a  man's  blood.  If  you 
loved  a  woman " 

The  Lieutenant  instantly  stiffened.     His  smile 


278          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

disappeared,  leaving  a  frown  in  its  place,  and 
Norton's  face  changed,  almost  imperceptibly. 
"  If  I  loved  a  woman,"  he  said,  "  I  would  protect 
her  at  the  risk  of  my  own  life,  my  own  happiness, 
my  own  soul.  If  need  be,  I  would  protect  her 
even  from  herself.  If  I  loved  a  woman  she  should 
think  of  me  in  just  one  way — as  her  shield." 

For  the  sheerest  fraction  of  an  instant  his  eyes 
met  Howard's,  openly  and  unashamed;  then, 
with  another  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  he  turned 
away,  saying,  "  I  must  go  back  to  my  lint  and  my 
bandages — we  may  need  them  before  long." 

Forsyth  went  back  to  the  trading  station,  and 
the  other  two  continued  their  uneasy  march 
around  the  parade-ground.  "I  think,"  said  the 
Lieutenant,  "that  the  sane,  reasoning  men  in  the 
settlement,  outside  the  ranks,  ought  to  get  to 
gether  and  talk  to  the  Captain." 

"It  won't  do  any  good,"  replied  Ronald,  dub 
iously. 

"No?  Perhaps  not,  but  there's  nothing  like 
trying.  We  don't  have  to  go,  you  know — it's  not 
compulsory.  The  boys  would  be  with  us,  and,  as 
I  said  before,  he's  only  one  man." 

Ronald  recoiled  as  if  from  a  blow.  "God, 
man,"  he  said,  thickly,  "  don't  make  me  forget  I  'm 
a  soldier!  "  He  swallowed  hard,  and  it  was  some 


A  Council  of  War  279 

time  before  he  spoke  again.  "  I  don't  mind  tell 
ing  you,  privately,  that  I  don't  think  much  of 
Captain  Franklin,  nor,"  he  added,  as  an  after 
thought,  "of  General  Hull;  but,  in  one  sense  at 
least,  they're  my  superior  officers.  I  don't  know 
what's  going  to  happen  to  me  in  the  next  world, 
nor  even  if  there  is  any  next  world;  but  I'll 
march  to  the  end  of  my  enlistment  with  my  sol 
dier's  honour  still  unstained." 

The  Lieutenant  gnawed  his  mustache  in  si 
lence  while  Ronald  wralked  beside  him,  breathing 
heavily.  "It's  madness,"  said  the  Ensign;  "we 
all  know  that.  The  North-western  Army  is  at 
Detroit,  and  the  British  are  at  Fort  Mackinac — 
unless  they've  already  started  down  here.  Mean 
while,  the  Indians,  leagued  to  a  man  with  the 
enemy,  are  waiting  for  us  to  set  foot  outside  the 
Fort.  That  fellow  that  brought  the  despatches 
dared  to  inquire  what  we  were  going  to  do — so  the 
tribes  could  act  in  harmony,  I  suppose !  Of  course, 
it's  possible  that  we  can  get  through  to  Fort 
Wayne  in  safety,  and  go  on  to  Detroit  with  a  force 
large  enough  to  clear  our  path — but  I  doubt  it." 

"Well,"  said  Howard,  "let's  have  a  try  at  it. 
Let's  call  a  council  of  war." 

"All  right — I'll  go  across  for  Mackenzie  and 
Forsyth,  while  you  get  Norton." 


280          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

The  Lieutenant  waited  until  he  saw  the  others 
coming  before  he  delivered  the  message.  The 
two  men  stood  facing  each  other  for  a  moment 
after  the  salute.  "  Doctor  Norton,"  said  How 
ard,  stiffly,  "we  have  called  a  council  of  war  at 
Captain  Franklin's,  immediately.  Will  you  be 
present  ? ' ' 

"Yes;  if  you  wish  it,  I  will." 

"  I  do  wish  it,"  answered  the  Lieutenant,  clear 
ing  his  throat. 

Captain  Franklin  himself  opened  the  door  to 
the  five  men,  and  there  was  no  trace  of  agitation 
in  his  manner  as  he  welcomed  them  and  bade 
them  be  seated.  "To  what  do  I  owe  the  honour 
of  this  visit?"  he  inquired,  after  an  awkward 
silence. 

"We  have  come  for  a  word  with  you,  Cap 
tain,"  replied  Lieutenant  Howard.  "In  effect, 
this  is  a  council  of  war." 

"One  moment  please."  The  Captain  went  to 
the  door,  summoned  his  orderly,  and  gave  him  a 
whispered  message.  "Now,  then,  I  am  ready  to 
listen." 

"Do  you  intend  to  obey  this  order  from  Gen 
eral  Hull's  headquarters?" 

1 '  Certainly— why  not  ? " 

"Captain,"  said  Ronald,  "we  appreciate  your 


A  Council  of  War  281 

position,  but  you  must  see  that  it  is  highly  im 
probable  that  we  should  ever  reach  Detroit,  or 
even  Fort  Wayne,  in  safety.  Since  war  was  de 
clared  against  England,  the  Indians  have  been 
openly  hostile.  The  country  through  which  we 
must  pass  is  infested  with  them,  and  they  are  in 
league  with  our  enemies.  For  what  reason  do  the 
English  pay  an  annual  tribute  to  the  Indians,  at 
the  same  time  searching  our  ships  on  the  high 
seas?  Do  you  remember,  before  war  was  de 
clared,  two  of  the  Calumet  chiefs  told  you  that 
our  women  would  soon  be  hoeing  in  their  corn 
fields?  If  you  need  further  proof,  consider  for  a 
moment  that  the  Indian  who  brought  the  de 
spatches  wore  the  blood-red  flag  of  our  enemy. 

''Captain,  our  march  must  be  slow.  We  have 
women  and  children  to  protect,  and  feeble  men  of 
seventy  and  more  in  our  own  ranks.  We  have 
only  a  few  horses,  scarcely  enough  for  the  women, 
and  about  fifty  fighting  men.  If  General  Hull 
had  been  acquainted  with  the  conditions,  he  would 
not  have  given  the  order.  As  it  is,  we  must  act 
upon  our  own  judgment,  and,  short  of  suicide, 
only  one  course  seems  to  be  open." 

"Is  this  your  opinion  also,  Lieutenant  How 
ard?" 

"It  is." 


282  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Doctor  Norton?" 

"  I  am  not  a  military  man,  but  I  agree  in  sub 
stance  with  what  has  been  said." 

"Mr.  Mackenzie?" 

"I'm  no  soldier,  either,"  said  the  trader,  "but 
I  think  the  proper  course  has  been  described.  Of 
course,  if  we  go,  I  '11  lose  everything  I  've  got  in 
the  world;  but  I  don't  care  for  that,  if  we  only 
do  what's  best." 

"Mr.  Forsyth?" 

"Like  my  uncle,  I'm  no  soldier,  but  I  agree 
with  Ensign  Ronald.  Still,  I  will  do  what  seems 
best,  obey  whatever  orders  may  be  given  by  those 
in  authority,  and  if  you  wish  to  send  a  messenger 
to  Detroit  I  am  at  your  service.  I  will  take  my 
horse  and  start  at  once." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  Captain,  ignoring  the 
suggestion,  "  I  appreciate  the  spirit  in  which  you 
have  come  to  me,  but  it  is  impossible  to  disobey 
orders.  A  soldier's  obedience  is  paramount  to  all 
other  considerations.  Special  orders  have  been 
issued  by  the  War  Department  that  no  post  is  to 
be  surrendered  without  battle  having  been  given. 
Our  force  is  inadequate  to  cope  with  either  In 
dians  or  British,  and  I  should  be  severely  cen 
sured  for  remaining,  if  not  court-martialed. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  even  if  the  Indians  are  in 


A  Council  of  War  283 

league  with  the  enemy  because  of  the  yearly  dis 
tribution  of  presents,  we  have  weapons  of  the 
same  kind  in  our  hands,  and  I  shall  not  hesitate 
to  use  them.  There  is  a  prospect  of  a  safe  march 
through,  and  I  propose  to  ally  the  Indians,  tem 
porarily  at  least,  with  us." 

Here  the  orderly  entered,  bringing  with  him 
Black  Partridge. 

"Say  to  him,"  said  Franklin  to  Mackenzie, 
"that  the  White  Father  bids  him  assemble  his 
people  from  the  four  quarters  of  the  earth  before 
noon  of  to-morrow's  sun."  The  trader  translated 
rapidly  as  the  Captain  spoke. 

"Tell  him  that  we  have  long  dwelt  side  by  side 
in  peace  and  content,  except  when  our  brother, 
Black  Partridge,  was  away  from  us,  and  the  Win- 
nebagoes,  fearing  nothing  because  our  protectors 
were  gone,  fell  upon  us  to  kill. 

"  Say  that  our  Great  White  Father  in  Washing 
ton  has  bidden  us  to  assemble  at  another  place, 
even  as  he  will  bid  his  people  to  assemble  here,  and 
that,  while  our  hearts  are  torn  with  sorrow,  we 
must  obey  the  command.  Tell  him  that  we  wish 
him  and  his  people  to  see  us  start  upon  our  jour 
ney,  and  that  our  cattle  and  our  provisions,  our 
clothing  and  our  supplies,  at  present  in  the  store 
houses  of  the  Great  White  Father,  will  be  given  to 


284          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

him  and  his  people  as  a  parting  gift.  Tell  him 
all  this  and  ask  him  if  he  understands.'' 

Mackenzie  was  translating,  sentence  by  sen 
tence,  and  all  eyes  were  turned  upon  Black 
Partridge.  The  Indian  stood  as  calm  and  as  im 
movable  as  stone,  listening  intently,  with  only  the 
glitter  of  his  eyes  betraying  any  interest  whatso 
ever. 

"Tell  him  that  long  shall  remain  in  our  hearts 
the  memory  of  the  kindness  received  at  the  hands 
of  our  brethren  the  Pottawattomies,  and  the  wise 
counsel  of  the  Great  Chief  who  rules  them.  Some 
day,  when  other  suns  have  run  their  course,  and 
the  Great  White  Father  gives  us  permission,  wre 
shall  return  to  live  in  peace  once  more  with  our 
brethren,  the  Pottawattomies,  and  their  Great 
Chief,  Black  Partridge,  who  is  our  brother  and 
our  friend.  Ask  him  if  he  understands." 

The  harsh  gutturals  of  the  question  fell  upon 
the  ears  of  the  bronze  statue,  and,  for  the  mo 
ment,  there  was  a  tense  stillness  in  the  room. 
Then  the  Indian  signified  that  he  understood,  and 
withdrew  as  silently  and  as  sinuously  as  a  snake 
in  the  grass. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


IF    I    WERE    IN    COMMAND " 


LONG  before  the  word  had  been  given,  the 
Indians  were  coming  in.  Winnebagoes, 
Ottawas,  Chippewas,  and  Pottawattomies,  from 
north,  south,  and  west,  were  gathering  in  the 
woods  around  Fort  Dearborn.  Like  the  rattle 
snake  coiled  to  strike,  like  vultures  drawn  to  a 
battlefield,  silent,  sinister,  and  deadly,  the  lines 
were  closing  in. 

Noon  was  the  hour  appointed  for  the  council, 
and  at  that  time  Black  Partridge,  through  Mac 
kenzie,  made  known  to  Captain  Franklin  that  it 
would  be  another  day  before  all  the  Pottawat 
tomies  could  be  assembled,  "Till  noon  of  to 
morrow's  sun,"  said  the  Captain,  sternly;  "not 
one  moment  more." 

Beatrice,  from  the  window  of  the  trading  sta 
tion,  saw  innumerable  Indians,  dressed  and 
painted  in  the  mariner  of  other  tribes,  carefully 

285 


286          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

inspecting  the  house  and  barn  as  if  appraising 
their  value.  The  Agency  building  was  haunted 
by  others,  who  peered  in  furtively  at  the  windows, 
hoping  for  an  early  look  at  the  goods  which  were 
to  be  distributed  among  the  tribes. 

Mrs.  Mackenzie  had  recovered  from  the  first 
shock  and  went  about  the  house  as  usual,  quiet 
yet  cheerful,  and  patient  with  the  children  and  her 
manifold  household  tasks.  To  Beatrice  only  she 
admitted  her  fear. 

"Don't  talk  about  it,  Aunt  Eleanor — we  must 
all  try  to  think  about  something  else." 

"Yes,"  sighed  Mrs.  Mackenzie,  "we  must  not 
fret  away  the  strength  we  will  need  for  the  jour 
ney.  Your  uncle  has  slept  scarcely  an  hour  since 
the  news  came." 

"I  know,  Aunt  Eleanor,  I  know." 

"  You  must  help  me  be  brave,  dear.  Someway, 
of  late,  I  have  felt  myself  a  coward,  and  it  has 
made  me  ashamed.  Not  for  myself  alone,  but  for 
the  children — 

The  sweet  voice  quivered,  then  broke;  and  for 
the  moment  Beatrice's  eyes  were  dim,  but  she 
swiftly  put  the  weakness  from  her. 

"  There's  nothing  to  be  afraid  of,  Aunt  Eleanor. 
The  British  have  n't  come,  and  as  for  the  Indians, 
why,  they  would  n't  dare  to  attack  the  soldiers. 


"  If  I  Were  in  Command  "        287 

We'll  get  to  Fort  Wayne,  safe  and  sound,  and 
perhaps  the  whole  army  will  go  on  to  Detroit  with 
us.  I  wonder  what  my  aunt  and  uncle  will  say 
when  they  see  me  riding  Queen  into  Fort  Wayne 
at  the  head  of  the  troops!" 

Mrs.  Mackenzie  laughed  in  spite  of  herself.  "  I 
hope  you're  right,  Bee." 

Forsyth  and  Ronald  were  walking  back  and 
forth  in  front  of  the  Fort,  talking  earnestly.  A 
little  apart  stood  Mackenzie  and  Captain  Franklin, 
while  Indians  went  in  and  out  of  the  stockade, 
apparently  at  pleasure. 

"Aunt  Eleanor,"  said  Beatrice,  thoughtfully, 
"  I  read  a  story  once  about  a  girl.  There  were  two 
men  who — who — well,  they  liked  her,  you  know. 
They  were  both  good,  but  there  was  a  difference. 
One  always  teased  her  and  tormented  her  and 
made  her  feel  at  odds  with  herself,  even  though 
she  knew  he  was  just  in  fun. 

"  The  other  always  rested  her.  No  matter  how 
tired  she  was,  or  how  much  out  of  sorts  she  hap 
pened  to  be,  it  always  made  her  feel  better  to  be 
with  him.  He  was  quiet  and  his  ways  were 
gentle,  and  he  knew  more  about — about  books  and 
things,  you  know.  The  other  one  was  a  soldier, 
and  this  one  was  a  student,  but  he — he  was  n't 
brave.  He  could  n't  help  it,  but  he  was  afraid." 


288          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"A  woman  never  could  love  a  man  who  was  n't 
brave,"  said  Mrs.  Mackenzie. 

"  No,  of  course  she  could  n't." 

"And  if  a  man  always  teased  and  tormented  a 
woman,  and  made  her  feel  irritable,  she  would 
never  be  happy  with  him." 

"  No;  she  could  n't  expect  to  be." 

"Perhaps  she  had  made  a  mistake  about  the 
other  one — perhaps  he  really  was  brave." 

"No;  because  she  saw  him  twice  when  she 
knew  he  was  afraid." 

"Then  she  should  n't  marry  either  one." 

"That's  what  I  thought,"  said  Beatrice. 

"Which  one  did  she  marrry?" 

"Who,  Aunt  Eleanor?" 

"Why,  the  girl  in  the  story?" 

"Oh,"  answered  Beatrice,  colouring;  "why,  I 
— I  've  forgotten.  It 's  queer,  is  n't  it,  how  people 
forget  things?" 

"What  book  was  it  in?" 

"I- -I  don't  remember.  My  memory  is  poor, 
Aunt  Eleanor.  I'm  going  to  my  room,  now,  if 
you  don't  want  me,  and  pack  up  some  of  my 
things." 

Red  and  white  clover  blossomed  in  the  yard, 
where  the  children  were  playing,  and  a  butterfly 
winged  its  way  through  the  open  window,  then 


"  If  I  Were  in  Command  "        289 

flew  swiftly  out  again.  Mrs.  Mackenzie  sat  by  the 
table  with  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands,  while 
childish  voices  came  to  her  ears  in  laughing  ca 
dence  and  filled  her  heart  with  fear  and  pain. 
Then  there  was  a  touch  upon  her  shoulder. 

"Eleanor!" 

"Why,"  she  said,  looking  up,  "I  didn't  hear 
you,  John." 

Her  clear  eyes  revealed  a  sadness  beyond  tears. 
"Eleanor,"  said  her  husband,  with  the  muscles 
working  about  his  mouth,  "  I  can't  bear  for  you 
to  feel  so." 

"  I— I  'm  all  right,  John.     Don't  fret  about  me." 

"No,  you  ain't  all  right — don't  you  think  I 
know?  I  've  brought  you  into  danger,  Eleanor 
—I  see  it  now,  and  that  's  the  thing  that  hurts  me 
most  of  all.  It  's  nothing  to  lose  all  I  've  got,  for 
that  's  happened  to  me  before,  and  I  'm  cnly 
fifty— I  can  get  it  all  back  again,  but  I  can't  ever 
change  the  fact  that  I  've  brought  you  into  dan 
ger.  I  promised  before  God  that  I  'd  protect 
you,  and  I  have  n't  done  it.  I  've  taken  you  to 
a  place  where  it  ain't  safe." 

The  man  's  distress  was  pitiful.  His  gigantic 
frame  was  bent  like  an  oak  in  the  path  of  a  furious 
storm  and  every  line  on  his  haggard  face  was  dis 
tinct,  as  if  it  had  been  cut.  His  dark  eyes,  under 


290          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

their  bushy  brows,  were  utterly  despairing;  he 
was  like  one  whose  hope  is  dead  and  buried  past 
the  power  of  resurrection. 

"John,  dear "  she  began,  with  her  hand  on 

his  bowed  head. 

"  I  've  brought  you  into  danger,"  he  said  help 
lessly,  "I  've  brought  you  into  danger,  you  and — ' 
A  lump  in  his  throat  put  an  end  to  speech,  and 
with  his  hand  he  indicated  the  children. 

"John,  dear,  don't  talk  so.  I — I  can't  help 
feeling  anxious,  but  I  'm  not  afraid.  In  all  the 
nine  years  we  've  lived  here,  the  Indians  have 
been  our  friends.  There  is  n't  one  who  would  lift 
his  hand  against  you  or  yours." 

"They  ain't  all  our  friends,  Eleanor.  There  's 
hundreds  and  hundreds  of  them  coming  in,  even 
from  as  far  away  as  the  Wabash.  How  should 
they  know  that  we  are  their  friends?  I  've 
brought  you  into  danger,"  he  repeated.  "I 
can't  ever  forget  that." 

"My  husband,"  she  said,  and  the  tone  was  a 
caress,  "we  promised  each  other  for  better  or  for 
worse.  '  Where  thou  goest,  I  will  go,  thy  people 
shall  be  my  people,  and — '  I  forget  the  rest. 

"  If  we  've  come  to  danger,  we  '11  meet  it  together, 
side  by  side.  When  I  promised  to  marry  you,  I 
did  n't  mean  it  just  for  the  smooth  places,  I  meant 


"  If  I  Were  in  Command  "        291 

it  for  all.  In  all  these  twelve  years  you  Ve 
shielded  me — whatever  you  could  do  to  make 
things  easier  for  me,  you  've  done,  and  all  that 
love  and  care  has  been  in  vain  if  I  am  not  strong 
enough  to  do  my  part  now. 

"  There  's  never  been  a  harsh  word  between  us, 
John ;  we  Ve  never  fussed  and  quarrelled  as  some 
married  people  do,  and  we  never  will.  The  road 
has  been  long,  and  sometimes  it 's  been  dusty  and 
hot,  but  we  Ve  never  walked  on  thorns,  and  what 
ever  we  Ve  come  to,  you  've  always  helped  me 
through  it. 

"  If  this  is  the  end,  why,  there  's  nothing  to  look 
back  on  to  make  either  of  us  ashamed,  nothing  to 
regret,  not  a  word  to  be  sorry  for,  not  a  single 
thing  for  which  either  of  us  should  say  *  Forgive 
me.'  If  this  is  death,  we  '11  face  it  as  I  have 
dreamed  we  should,  if  God  were  good  to  us; 
we  '11  face  it  as  I  Ve  prayed  we  might — hand  in 
hand!" 

"Eleanor!"  he  cried,  clasping  her  in  his  arms. 
"  Brave  heart,  you  give  me  faith !  True  soul,  you 
make  me  strong!"  His  trembling  lips  sought 
hers,  then  on  her  face  she  felt  his  tears. 

"  Well,  upon  my  word!  "  said  Beatrice,  from  the 
doorway.  "I  hope  I  don't  interrupt?" 


29 2  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Blushing  like  a  schoolgirl,  Mrs.  Mackenzie  re 
leased  herself  and  the  trader  laughed  mirthlessly. 
"You're  a  saucy  minx,  Bee,"  he  said,  with  a 
little  catch  in  his  voice.  Then  the  primitive  mas 
culine  impulse  asserted  itself  and  he  went  out, 
covered  with  confusion. 

' '  What  have  you  been  doing,  Bee  ? ' ' 

"Nothing  much.  How  pretty  you  are,  Aunt 
Eleanor !  I  have  n't  seen  your  cheeks  so  pink 
for  many  a  day." 

The  deep  colour  mantled  Mrs.  Mackenzie's 
fair  face.  "  Where  's  Robert  ?  "  she  asked 
hastily. 

"Don't  know,"  murmured  Beatrice,  instantly 
beating  a  retreat.  "See,  Aunt  Eleanor." 

Out  of  the  mysterious  recesses  of  her  pocket, 
she  drew  a  bag,  made  of  gay  calico,  with  a  long 
string  attached  to  it. 

"Very  pretty — what  is  it  for,  dear?" 

"It  's  for  cartridges,"  laughed  Beatrice.  "  If  I 
ride  with  the  soldiers,  I  have  to  bear  arms.  I  've 
got  my  pistol — the  one  Mr.  Ronald  gave  me  the 
day  after  I  came  here,  and  I  'm  going  over  to  the 
Fort  now,  after  ammunition." 

She  seemed  to  be  in  high  spirits  as  she  pirouetted 
around  the  room,  but  there  was  an  undertone  of 
sadness,  even  in  her  laugh.  She  was  half-way  to 


"  If  I  Were  in  Command  "        293 

the  door  when  she  turned,  moved  by  a  sudden 
tenderness,  and  came  back. 

"Dear,  sweet  Aunt  Eleanor,"  she  said,  rubbing 
her  cheek  against  Mrs.  Mackenzie's,  "you've 
always  been  so  good  to  me.  Perhaps  you  've 
thought  me  ungrateful,  but  truly  I  'm  not,  and  I 
want  to  thank  you  now." 

"You  Ve  been  like  a  second  daughter  to  me, 
dear,"  said  the  other,  a  little  unsteadily,  "you  've 
done  more  for  me  than  I  ever  could  do  for 
you." 

Ronald  was  waiting  for  Beatrice  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river  while  she  was  pulling  across,  and 
she  waved  her  bright  coloured  bag  at  him  in  gay 
fashion.  "You  gave  me  a  gun,"  she  said,  "but 
you  did  n't  give  me  anything  to  put  in  it.  I  want 
cartridges." 

"How  many?"  he  asked,  smiling. 

"As  many  as  the  bag  will  hold." 

"Foolish  child,  you  never  can  carry  all  those." 

"Oh,  but  I  can — you  don't  know  how  strong  I 
am!  I  'm  going  to  tie  it  around  my  waist,  you 
know." 

"Happy  bag,"  said  Ronald,  as  he  took  it  from 
her.  "I'll  get  them  for  you,"  he  continued, 
seriously. 

"  One  thing  more,"  she  said,  with  lowered  voice. 


294  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

' '  If — if — well,  the  Indians  will  never  get  me.  And 
they  shall  not  have  Queen.  Where  shall  I 
shoot?" 

"Fire  at  the  exact  centre  of  the  line  between 
Queen's  eyes." 

In  spite  of  herself  the  girl  shuddered.  "  And — 
and — ?"  she  asked,  looking  up  into  his  face. 

"The  right  temple,"  answered  Ronald,  huskily. 
"  Heart's  Desire,  you  are  a  mate  for  a  king!" 

Forsyth  passed  them  on  his  way  to  the  entrance 
of  the  Fort,  and  Beatrice  put  out  a  restraining 
hand.  "Where  are  you  going,  Cousin  Rob?" 

"Home — to  open  school." 

"I  thought  this  was  vacation?" 

"  It  is,  but  it  is  better  for  the  children,  under 
the  circumstances,  to  have  their  minds  occupied." 

The  oars  splashed  in  the  water,  and  Ronald 
turned  to  her  again.  "  Darling ' 

"Look,"  interrupted  Beatrice,  "there's  the 
Lieutenant."  She  hailed  him  merrily.  "Cousin 
Ralph,  is  Katherine  at  home?" 

"I  believe  so,"  he  answered,  coming  toward 
them;  "if  not,  she  's  at  Mrs.  Franklin's." 

"  I  'm  going  to  find  her."  She  made  an  elabor 
ate  courtesy  to  each  of  them,  and  departed. 

"Ronald,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  "this  is  ab 
solute  foolishness,  and  something  has  got  to  be 


"  If  I  Were  in  Command  "        295 

done.  How  many  hundred  Indians  do  you  sup 
pose  have  already  gathered  here — and  Black 
Partridge  postponing  the  council  till  the  rest  get 
in — any  fool  can  see  what  it  means!" 

"Yes,  any  fool  but  the  Captain,"  said  the  En 
sign,  bitterly. 

The  parade-ground  was  deserted,  for  the  August 
heats  beat  fiercely  upon  the  land.  Stray  Indians 
went  in  and  out,  and  the  sentinel,  with  his  musket 
over  his  shoulder,  paced  round  and  round  the 
Fort.  Lieutenant  Howard  cleared  his  throat. 

"  The  lives  of  the  women  and  children  are  in  our 
hands,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "  I  'm  not  speak 
ing  for  ourselves,  now.  If  Franklin  is  still  set  on 
this  mad  course,  there  's  only  one  thing  to  do." 
His  face  and  voice  were  eloquent  with  sinister 
meaning. 

The  flag  hung  like  a  limp  rag  at  the  masthead 
and  the  long  droning  notes  of  the  locusts  sounded 
loudly  in  the  tense  stillness.  "  Murder,"  whis 
pered  Ronald,  with  his  face  white. 

"Yes,  murder,  if  you  will  have  so.  It's  a 
harsh  word,  but  I  don't  quibble  at  the  term. 
'Caesar  had  his  Brutus,  King  Charles  his  Crom 
well,  and '  " 

Ronald's  head  was  bowed  and  his  hands  were 
tightly  clenched.  Sharp,  hissing  breaths  came 


296          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

and  went  between  his  set  teeth  and  the  Lieutenant 
put  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Boy,"  he  said,  in  a  softer  tone,  "I  'ma  soldier, 
like  you.  So  far,  I  Ve  marched  as  you  have,  true 
to  my  colours,  but  of  late,  I  've  been  wondering  if 
it  was  n't  time  to  turn.  Since  the  first  soldiers 
marched  against  the  enemy,  there  has  been  a  false 
worship  of  orders — we  have  regarded  the  dictum 
of  a  commander  as  equivalent  to  a  fiat  of  God. 

"Good  men  and  true  have  gone  to  a  needless 
death,  because  the  commander  was  a  fool.  You 
know  what  we  're  coming  to.  You  can  see  it, 
plain  as  day.  Do  you  remember,  up  at  Lee's 
that  night,  you  felt  the  mutilated  bodies  of  those 
two  men,  and  came  back,  with  your  hands  stained 
with  their  blood?  Our  boys  will  be  treated  worse 
than  that,  if  the  Captain  has  his  way." 

"If  you  were  in  command—"  said  Ronald, 
thickly. 

"  If  I  were  in  command,  that  order  should  be 
torn  to  bits  and  scattered  to  the  four  winds. 
Every  ounce  of  food  in  the  Agency  storehouse, 
every  pound  of  powder  and  shot,  every  musket, 
every  rifle,  and  every  pistol,  should  be  brought 
into  the  Fort. 

"  I  would  drive  the  cattle  inside  the  enclosure, 
keep  a  few  in  the  stables,  kill  the  rest,  salt  down 


"  If  I  Were  in  Command  "        297 

the  meat,  and  preserve  it.  A  cellar  should  be  pre 
pared  for  the  women  and  children,  a  hospital 
corps  drilled,  the  cannon  in  the  blockhouses 
manned,  and  the  gates  of  the  Fort  closed. 

"If  I  were  in  command  there  should  be  no 
needless  slaughter,  no  torture  of  women  and  child 
ren,  no  disembowelling  of  our  soldiers,  no  cutting 
our  hearts  out  while  we  are  still  alive.  No! 
We  'd  fight  like  soldiers,  die  like  men ;  we  'd  hold 
the  Fort  till  the  flag  was  shot  to  pieces  and  not  a 
man  stood  among  its  ashes  to  defend  it,  if  I  were 
in  command!" 

"If  you  were  in  command — "  muttered  Ronald. 

"If  I  were  in  command,  Fort  Dearborn  should 
go  down  to  history  with  honour,  not  shame. 
Water  and  food  are  assured.  What  if  the  British 
with  all  their  forces  were  hammering  at  our  gates, 
allied  with  the  red  devils  as  they  are!  We  have 
the  Fort  at  our  backs— they  have  the  river  and 
the  open  prairie.  We  could  hold  it  for  six  months, 
if  necessary.  The  War  Department  says :  '  No 
post  shall  be  surrendered  without  battle  having 
been  given,'  and,  by  the  Lord,  we  'd  give  a  battle 
that  would  fill  hell  with  our  enemies.  One  stroke 
will  do  it — one  bullet  from  our  precious  store  of 
ammunition — one  man  brave  enough  to  strike ;  but 
it  must  be  done  to-night— now !" 


298          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

The  Ensign's  face  was  ghastly.  "  Think  what 
it  means  to  you,"  whispered  the  Lieutenant. 
"Think  of  the  woman  you  love!  Oh,  I  know — I 
have  not  been  blind.  Would  you  see  her  put  to 
the  torture,  stripped,  violated,  torn  limb  from 
limb  by  those  fiends  that  even  now  are  watching 
the  Fort? 

"  Think  of  their  bloody,  cruel  hands  upon  her 
soft  flesh — think  of  the  torture — eyes  burned  out 
with  charred  sticks — finger-nails  split  off  back 
ward — things  that  there  are  no  words  to  name, 
while  Beatrice  cries  to  you ! 

"Boy,  think  of  the  woman  you  love,  with  her 
big  childish  eyes,— shall  the  savages  burn  them 
out?  Her  dimpled  hands — shall  her  fingers  be 
torn  out,  one  by  one?  Her  sweet  voice — shall  it 
cry  to  you  in  vain  ?  Think  of  her  fair  white  body, 
at  the  mercy  of  two  thousand  fiends !  Think  what 
she  means  to  you — her  beauty  and  her  laughter — 
her  tenderness  and  her  thorns — then  think  of 
this!  One  man — one  bullet — one  moment — to 
night — nowr ! ' ' 

His  voice  died  into  a  hoarse  whisper  and  Ronald 
writhed  in  anguish.  For  an  instant,  only,  the 
scales  hung  in  the  balance,  then  he  turned  and 
faced  him. 

"No!"  he  roared,  "by  God,  no!     I  '11  protect 


"  If  I  Were  in  Command  "        299 

the  woman  I  love  while  a  drop  of  blood  is  left  in 
my  body — as  long  as  this  sword  has  a  hand  be 
hind  it  to  fight.  If  I  am  powerless  to  save  her,  she 
shall  die  at  my  hands,  but  I  '11  be  no  beast ! 

"I  '11  not  commit  murder  like  a  Brutus  or  a 
Cromwell.  I  '11  not  strike  down  my  Captain  like 
a  thief  in  the  night!  I  '11  stab  no  man  in  the 
back — I  '11  meet  him  face  to  face  in  fair  and  open 
fight,  and  may  the  best  man  win ! 

"Ralph,  you're  beside  yourself — you  don't 
know  what  you  're  saying.  You  're  a  soldier, 
man,  you  're  not  a  brute !  Stand  fast  to  your 
soldier's  honour,  and  let  God  do  as  He  will! 

"We're  all  against  him — officers  and  men. 
Perhaps  there  's  not  a  man  in  barracks  who 
would  hesitate  at  what  you  ask — mutiny  and  in 
surrection  stalk  abroad  in  our  midst,  but,  by  the 
Lord,  I  '11  obey  my  orders!  Strike  the  blow  if 
you  will — go  like  a  coward  and  a  thief  to  take  the 
life  of  a  brave  man,  who  is  doing  what  seems  to 
him  his  duty — hire  your  contemptible  assassin  if 
you  choose,  but  remember  this — the  man  who 
touches  one  hair  of  my  Captain's  head,  answers 
for  it — to  me!" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

SAVED  FROM  HIMSELF 

THE  morning  of  August  twelfth  dawned  with 
burning  heat.  The  lake  lay  as  smooth  as  a 
sea  of  glass  and  from  the  south-west  came  the 
dreaded  wind  of  the  prairies,  hot  as  a  blast  from 
a  furnace  and  laden  with  dust.  The  sun  blazed 
pitilessly  in  a  cloudless  sky  and  countless  Indians 
patrolled  the  Fort,  the  Agency  House,  and  the 
trading  station. 

The  newcomers  were  alive  with  curiosity. 
Many  of  them  had  never  seen  the  Fort  before, 
and  they  swarmed  in  and  out  unceasingly. 
Through  the  wicket  gate  and  the  main  entrance, 
past  the  soldiers'  barracks,  guard-house,  hospital, 
storehouse,  magazine,  and  contractor's  store,  back 
and  forth  between  the  officers'  barracks,  the 
Indians  continually  passed.  They  lay  down  on 
their  faces  to  smell  of  the  drain,  muttered  unin 
telligibly  when  they  came  to  the  subterranean 

300 


Saved  from  Himself  301 

passage,  and  wondered  at  the  flag,  with  its  fifteen 
stripes  and  fifteen  stars,  that  hung  limply  at  the 
staff. 

They  openly  defied  the  sentinels  at  the  gate, 
climbed  into  the  blockhouses,  where  they  sur 
reptitiously  felt  of  the  cannon  and  peered  furtively 
into  the  muzzles,  and  even  went  into  the  officers' 
quarters.  It  was  the  kind  of  a  visit  that  one 
makes  to  an  occupied  house,  on  the  eve  of  taking 
possession. 

"  Wallace,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  "  is  n't  there  any 
way  to  keep  these  people  out  of  the  Fort  ? ' ' 

"Why,  I  hadn't  thought  about  it,"  returned 
the  Captain,  absently.  "They  're  not  doing  any 
harm,  are  they?" 

"  They  have  n't  as  yet,"  retorted  Mrs.  Franklin, 
with  spirit,  "but  they  're  likely  to  at  any  moment. 
I  don't  want  them  in  my  house,  and  I  won't  have 
them  here ! ' ' 

"  Tell  them  so,"  laughed  the  Captain.  "  I  have 
no  doubt  of  the  effectiveness  of  your  request." 

"  Don't  make  fun  of  me." 

"  I  'm  not  making  fun  of  you,  dear,  but  it  is  of 
the  utmost  importance  that  we  do  nothing  to 
excite  the  Indians.  If  they  think  we  are  un 
friendly,  mischief  may  easily  result.  I  suppose 
our  houses  and  the  Fort  have  the  same  interest 


302          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

for  them  that  their  wigwams  and  blankets  had 
for  us,  when  we  first  saw  Indians.  Personally,  I 
have  no  objection  whatever  to  their  examining 
our  weapons  of  offence  and  defence." 

Mrs.  Franklin  sighed.  "  When  do  we  go?"  she 
asked. 

"As  soon  as  possible  after  the  council,  which 
will  be  held  this  afternoon.  It  takes  time,  how 
ever,  to  prepare  sixty  or  seventy  people  for  a  long 
overland  journey." 

"  I  wish  we  had  boats." 

"So  do  I,  but  we  have  n't.  Still,  I  don't  know 
that  we  'd  be  any  better  off,  at  the  mouth  of  the 
St.  Joseph  River,  without  guides,  than  we  are 
here.  There  may  be  a  trail  from  the  river  across 
to  Detroit,  but  I  don't  know  anything  about  it. 
Lieutenant  Swearingen  marched  his  company 
around  by  land,  when  the  Fort  was  built.  When 
we  get  to  Fort  Wayne,  we  '11  either  stay  there,  or 
go  on  to  Detroit  with  a  larger  force.  It  depends 
upon  the  movements  of  the  British." 

"Some  way,  Wallace,  I  'm  afraid  of  trouble — I 
don't  know  why." 

"  I  don't  think  there  '11  be  any  trouble,  dear,  but 
the  idea  that  it  would  be  right  and  proper  to  dis 
obey  the  order  appears  to  be  spreading.  Macken 
zie  is  at  the  bottom  of  it,  of  course,  and  I  don't 


Saved  from  Himself  303 

know  that  we  should  blame  him,  for  it  means 
heavy  financial  loss  to  him.  Yet  he  never  could 
have  established  himself  here  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  Fort,  and  it  is  his  place  to  uphold  the 
military,  rather  than  to  work  against  it;  but 
there  's  no  accounting  for  the  vagaries  of  the 
human  mind.  All  of  his  work  here  has  been  con 
tingent  upon  the  protection  of  the  Fort;  when 
that  is  withdrawn,  he  has  no  right  to  complain. 
Civilians  seem  to  think  that  an  order  does  n't 
mean  anything  in  particular — it  's  to  be  obeyed 
or  not,  as  suits  their  erratic  fancy.  A  soldier  is  a 
man  who  obeys  orders — when  he  is  no  longer 
willing  to  do  that  he  should  get  a  discharge." 

"  Do  you  think  the  Indians  will  destroy  this 
house,  after  we  leave?" 

"Probably,  and  the  Fort  also.  Quarrels  are 
bound  to  occur  among  the  different  tribes  before 
long,  and  while  they  are  settling  their  disputes 
in  their  own  way,  we  '11  get  well  on  to  Fort 
Wayne." 

"I've  thought,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  slowly, 
"that  Lieutenant  Howard  was  inclined  to  make 
trouble.  I  have  n't  had  any  reason  to  think  so, 
but  I  can't  get  it  out  of  my  head." 

"It's  quite  possible,"  returned  the  Captain, 
with  a  significant  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  "for  he 


304          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

is  one  of  the  men  who  are  always  against  every 
thing  they  do  not  originate.  He  's  been  chafing 
at  his  bit  all  along  because  he  is  n't  in  command. 
If  he  were  Captain,  he  'd  want  to  be  a  step  higher 
—I  suppose  he  thinks  himself  capable  of  handling 
the  whole  army.  But  don't  bother  yourself  about 
it,  dear — we  '11  get  through  some  way.  I  must  go, 
now — I  've  got  things  to  see  to." 

In  and  out  of  the  stockade,  parties  of  Indians 
were  still  passing,  braves  and  squaws,  who  took 
great  interest  in  their  new  surroundings.  Mrs. 
Franklin  locked  her  door,  but  savage  faces  con 
tinually  appeared  at  the  windows  and  at  last  she 
determined  to  go  out  upon  the  parade-ground  and 
find  a  soldier  or  two  to  protect  her. 

When  she  opened  the  door,  she  started  vio 
lently,  and  put  her  hand  upon  her  heart. 

"I  'm  sorry  I  frightened  you,"  said  Katherine. 
"I'm  frightened  myself.  I  don't  like  to  have 
those  Indians  running  in  and  out.  Four  squaws 
just  came  into  my  house  and  began  to  look  around, 
just  as  if  I  had  something  that  belonged  to  them. 
I  don't  know  what  they  're  doing  now — they  're 
still  there.  Can't  we  get  some  of  the  boys  to 
drive  them  out  and  shut  the  gates?" 

Before  there  was  time  for  an  answer,  three 
braves  and  two  squaws  entered  the  Captain's 


Saved  from  Himself  3°5 

house  and  began  to  inspect  the  furnishings  of  the 
room.  Katherine  was  stiff  with  terror,  but  Mrs. 
Franklin  was  angry.  She  held  her  peace,  how 
ever,  until  one  of  the  warriors  took  down  a  musket 
from  the  wall,  aimed  it  at  the  ceiling,  and  fired. 

In  an  instant  the  Captain's  wife  was  on  her  feet. 
Ker  husband's  rifle  was  on  the  table  behind  her, 
and  quick  as  a  flash,  she  levelled  it  at  the  intruders. 
"Out  of  my  house,  you  dogs!"  she  cried,  and  the 
Indians  retreated,  pausing  outside  just  long 
enough  to  make  savage  grimaces  at  the  women. 

The  report  of  the  musket  brought  Ronald  and 
some  soldiers  to  the  rescue.  "What  's  up?"  he 
asked,  looking  from  one  to  the  other. 

It  was  Katherine  who  explained,  for  Mrs. 
Franklin's  courage  had  deserted  her,  and  she  was 
trembling  so  she  could  not  speak.  "Cheer  up, 
Mamie,"  said  the  Ensign—"  I  '11  see  to  it." 

Upon  his  own  responsibility,  he  cleared  the 
Fort  of  the  intruders,  closed  the  south  gate,  and 
put  a  double  line  of  armed  sentinels  at  the  north 
entrance. 

No  sooner  was  it  accomplished  than  Captain 
Franklin  came  out  of  the  offices.  "May  I  ask," 
he  sarcastically  inquired  of  Ronald,  "by  whose 
authority  you  have  done  this?" 

The  Ensign  saluted.     "By  the  authority  of  a 


306          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Second  Lieutenant  who  sees  the  wife  of  his  Cap 
tain  in  danger,"  he  answered  stiffly,  then  turned 
on  his  heel  and  walked  away. 

The  two  women  were  sitting  on  the  piazza  and 
the  Captain  did  not  share  Ronald's  fears  for  their 
safety.  Mackenzie  and  Black  Partridge  passed 
through  the  line  of  sentinels  and  he  went  to  meet 
them. 

"He  says,"  began  the  trader,  indicating  the 
chief,  "that  noon  of  the  sun  is  too  early  for  the 
council,  but  that  at  the  second  hour  after  noon, 
he  and  his  people  will  be  assembled  upon  the 
esplanade,  to  await  the  pleasure  of  the  White 
Father." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Captain,  carelessly. 

Black  Partridge  went  out  and  the  Indians  at 
once  began  to  rally  around  him.  At  least  a  thou 
sand,  including  the  squaws,  came  out  of  the 
woods  and  were  assigned  to  different  stations,  ac 
cording  to  their  rank.  The  chiefs  of  the  several 
branches  of  the  Pottawattomies  and  the  chiefs  of 
allied  tribes,  had  places  of  honour  in  the  front 
ranks.  The  braves  and  young  warriors  came 
next,  and  the  squaws  were  grouped  a  little  way 
off,  by  themselves. 

For  fully  an  hour  before  the  appointed  time,  the 
solid  phalanx  waited  in  the  broiling  sun.  Some  of 


Saved  from  Himself  307 

the  squaws  sat  upon  the  hot  ground,  but  the 
braves  stood,  silent  and  statuesque,  with  grim 
fortitude.  The  Ensign  went  to  the  gate  of  the 
Fort  and  took  a  long  look  at  the  assembly,  frankly 
admitting  to  himself  that  he  did  not  like  the 
appearance  of  it. 

When  he  had  turned  back  and  had  passed  the 
sentinels,  Doctor  Norton  stopped  him.  "  Ronald," 
he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "the  boys  are  talking 
mutiny." 

The  Ensign  considered  a  moment.  "How  do 
you  know?" 

"Well,  I  Ve  overheard  two  or  three  significant 
remarks  that  seemed  to  point  in  the  same  direc 
tion." 

"Who  began  it?" 

"  It  seems  to  have  started  in  about  fifty  places 
at  once." 

" Do  you  know  the  names  of  the  men?" 

"  No,  I  do  not."  Ronald  knew  that  the  Doctor 
lied,  and.  respected  him  for  it. 

"  Do  you  think  the  boys  thought  of  it  by  them 
selves?" 

"  I  should  judge  so — I  did  n't  hear  any  refer 
ences  to  the  officers." 

Ronald  looked  at  him  quickly  but  he  appeared 
unconscious.  "I  just  thought  I  'd  tell  you," 


308          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

he  continued.  "  Of  course,  it  's  none  of  my 
affair." 

"  All  right — much  obliged  to  you." 

The  Doctor  went  away  and  Ronald  went  im 
mediately  to  his  superior  officer.  ''Lieutenant 
Howard,"  he  demanded  sternly,  "have  you  been 
talking  mutiny  to  the  men?" 

Howard's  eyes  met  his  squarely.  "No,"  he 
said  sharply,  "have  you?" 

Ronald  retreated,  shamefaced  and  ill  at  ease. 
"I — I  beg  your  pardon." 

"The  boys  are  n't  fools,"  laughed  the  Lieuten 
ant.  "They  can  see  farther  than  some.  I  've 
spoken  to  no  one  but  you,  but  if  mutiny  arises, 
I  '11  let  it  take  its  rightful  course." 

"Well,  I  won't.     Remember  what  I  said." 

"  I  can't  remember  all  your  valuable  utterances. 
Don't  cast  your  pearls  before  swine,  but  reserve 
them  for — for  a  more  appreciative  audience." 

Stung  to  the  quick  by  the  insult,  Ronald  in 
stinctively  put  his  hand  on  his  sword.  Then  both 
saw  the  Captain  coming  swiftly  toward  them,  and 
waited. 

"  It  is  time  for  the  council,"  he  said. 

"Well?"  queried  the  Lieutenant,  after  an  awk 
ward  pause. 

"Are  you  going  with  me?" 


Saved  from  Himself  3°9 

Silence. 

"Lieutenant  Howard  and  Ensign  Ronald,  it  is 
time  for  the  council  I  have  appointed  with  the 
Indians.  Are  you  going  with  me  ?" 

"An  order,  Captain?"  inquired  Ronald. 

"Neither  an  order  nor  a  request — not  even  a 
suggestion.  It  is  an  opportunity,  to  be  taken  or 
not,  as  you  choose." 

"Speaking  for  myself,"  said  Ronald,  "  I  do  not 
see  what  we  could  accomplish  by  going.  You  are 
the  army  and  the  officers  of  it." 

"As  you  pay  no  attention  to  our  suggestions," 
remarked  the  Lieutenant,  "  I  prefer  to  remain 
here." 

"Very  well."  The  Captain  and  Mackenzie 
went  out  alone. 

"Better  go  to  the  blockhouse,  hadn't  we?" 
asked  Ronald.  "There  may  be  trouble." 

"I  hope  there  will  be,"  answered  Howard. 
' '  Let  Franklin  fight  it  out  alone  with  his  precious 
Indians.  Providence  may  yet  intervene  and  give 
me  the  command." 

Ronald  went  to  the  blockhouse  alone,  trained 
the  cannon  at  the  port-holes,  and  watched  the  In 
dians.  After  the  first  formal  greetings  were  ex 
changed,  the  business  of  the  afternoon  began. 
Franklin  spoke  to  Mackenzie,  who  translated  for 


The  Shadow  of  Victory 

the  benefit  of  Black  Partridge,  and  he,  in  turn, 
conveyed  the  message  to  the  assembly. 

"We  come  for  the  last  time,"  said  Captain 
Franklin,  "to  speak  with  our  brothers,  the  red 
men.  Your  Great  Chief  has  told  you  how  our 
Great  Chief  has  bidden  us  to  assemble  at  another 
place  and  how,  though  our  hearts  are  torn  with 
sorrow,  we  must  obey  the  command.  We  have 
sent  swift  messengers  a  day's  journey  and  more 
on  every  side,  that  we  might  say  farewell  to  those 
with  whom  we  have  so  long  dwelt  in  peace.  The 
goods  in  yonder  storehouse,  by  the  mandate  of 
the  Great  White  Father,  are  to  be  given  to  our 
brothers  as  a  parting  gift,  that  they  may  long 
hold  us  in  kindly  remembrance,  as  we  shall  them. 

"  We  ask,  however,  a  favour  in  return.  We  ask 
that  some  of  our  noble  brothers,  such  as  it  may 
please,  shall  escort  us  to  Fort  Wayne,  the  place  of 
our  first  assembly,  and  long  known  to  the  red 
men,  who  have  many  friends  there.  We  ask  that 
our  brothers  shall  aid  us  in  protecting  our  women 
and  children  from  the  dangers  of  the  trail.  If 
any  are  graciously  inclined  to  do  this  kindness 
for  us,  we  shall  press  upon  them  still  other  gifts 
when  we  reach  our  destination." 

Black  Partridge,  in  a  loud  voice,  repeated  the 
speech  in  the  Indian  tongue.  Each  of  the  chiefs 


Saved  from  Himself  311 

in  the  front  rank  then  expressed  an  opinion  upon 
the  subject,  as  he  was  asked  by  the  spokesman. 
Then  Black  Partridge  spoke  apart  with  Mackenzie. 

''They  say,"  said  the  interpreter,  "that  it  is 
well.  They  will  joyously  receive  the  goods  in 
the  storehouse  as  a  parting  gift  from  their  white 
brothers,  beside  whom  they  have  so  long  dwelt  in 
peace.  The  plains  will  be  lonely  and  the  river 
sad  without  the  palefaces.  The  houses  of  the 
Great  White  Father  will  be  desolate  when  the 
friends  of  the  red  men  are  gone,  but  as  it  is  writ 
ten,  so  must  it  be.  The  bravest  of  the  warriors 
will  attend  on  the  trail  to  Fort  Wayne  and  safely 
shield  the  friends  of  the  red  men  from  savages  and 
wild  beasts.  From  all  that  stalks  abroad  with 
intent  to  slay,  the  friends  of  the  palefaces  will 
guard  them.  Let  the  children  of  the  Great  White 
Father  have  no  fear.  All  shall  be  well.  Side  by 
side  shall  they  journey  with  their  brothers,  the 
Pottawattomies  and  the  allied  tribes.  In  three 
moons,  or  perhaps  two,  if  the  Great  Spirit  is  kind, 
the  palefaces  will  return  to  dwell  with  their  broth 
ers  once  more,  when  their  assembly  is  over  and 
the  Great  White  Father  has  made  known  unto 
them  his  commands." 

"Tell  them,"  said  Captain  Franklin,  "  that  at 
the  same  hour  of  to-morrow's  sun,  the  presents 


The  Shadow  of  Victory 

shall  be  given  them.  They  shall  have  blankets, 
prints,  calicoes,  broadcloths,  and  adornments  for 
their  women  and  their  papooses.  For  the  Great 
Chiefs  there  will  be  tobacco,  war  paints,  cunning 
contrivances  for  the  sharpening  of  weapons,  and 
provisions  against  the  long  cold  Winter  when 
the  hunting  grounds  are  barren,  which  is  but  four 
moons  away.  Say  that  the  Great  White  Father 
will  be  pleased  when  he  learns  how  the  Great 
Chiefs,  with  their  fearless  braves  and  warriors, 
have  safely  guided  his  children  unto  the  place  of 
assembly." 

"They  say  it  is  well,"  said  Mackenzie,  after  the 
speech  and  its  answer  had  been  duly  made,  "  and 
that  at  the  same  hour  of  to-morrow's  sun  they 
will  assemble  here,  to  receive  the  parting  tokens 
of  the  Great  White  Father." 

With  much  ceremony,  the  council  was  con 
cluded  and  the  Indians  dispersed.  Black  Par 
tridge  lingered  to  express  his  pleasure  because  all 
had  gone  well,  then  he,  too,  went  along  the  river 
bank  to  the  woods  where  the  Indians  were  gath 
ered. 

" Captain,"  said  Mackenzie,  "I  want  to  talk  to 
you  a  bit." 

"All  right — let's  go  back  to  the  Fort,  where 
it 's  cooler." 


Saved  from  Himself  3J3 

Ronald  came  down  from  the  blockhouse  as 
they  entered  the  stockade  and  went  across  the 
river,  where  Beatrice  was  visible  at  a  shaded 
window. 

"How  about  the  ammunition  and  liquor?" 
asked  the  trader.  "  Are  you  going  to  include  that 
in  the  distribution?" 

"  I  had  n't  thought  about  it — why?" 

"  It  's  risky,"  said  Mackenzie.  "  We  don't  want 
to  furnish  them  with  weapons  to  use  against  us. 
Arm  those  seven  hundred  Indians  with  muskets, 
give  them  powder  and  shot,  fill  them  up  with 
liquor,  and  where  would  we  be?" 

"It  might  amuse  them,"  replied  the  Captain, 
thoughtfully.  "  If  there  was  whiskey  enough  in 
the  storehouse  to  get  every  man  of  them  dead 
drunk,  except  our  guides,  it  might  be  the  best 
thing  to  do." 

"  Unfortunately,  we  can't  force  the  proper  quan 
tity  down  the  throat  of  each  one.  Some  are  wiser 
than  the  rest  and  they  would  n't  drink." 

"Well,  suppose  they  had  the  muskets  — 
would  n't  they  use  them  against  each  other?" 

"No,"  said  the  trader,  conclusively,  "they 
would  n't.  They  'd  turn  against  us." 

"  I  hardly  think  that  any  of  them  will  go  with 
us,  except  Black  Partridge  and  a  few  of  his  friends. 


3H          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

By  to-morrow,  numerous  fights  will  have  started, 
and  they  '11  be  too  busy  to  notice  our  departure. 
Besides,  they  have  promised." 

"  Captain  Franklin,  the  promise  of  an  Indian  is 
absolutely  worthless,  as  you  must  know  by  this 
time.  Since  the  troubles  on  the  Wabash,  the 
general  trend  of  feeling  toward  us  has  been  hostile. 
Their  tomahawks  are  bad  enough— they  don't 
need  our  own  weapons.  When  I  got  as  far  as 
De  Charme's,  last  Fall,  on  my  way  to  Detroit,  and 
heard  of  the  battle  of  Tippecanoe,  I  turned  back 
immediately  to  Fort  Dearborn  and  sent  messengers 
to  the  outer  trading  posts  with  positive  orders  to 
furnish  neither  ammunition  nor  liquor  to  the 
Indians.  Do  you  remember  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  I  remember.  Perhaps  it  would  be  as 
well  to  keep  back  the  liquor  and  ammunition, 
but  in  that  case,  they  must  not  know  we  have 
them.  How  can  we  manage  ?" 

"  Bring  everything  into  the  Fort  secretly,  by 
night,  and  destroy  it." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Captain,  after  a  silence; 
"you  have  had  better  opportunities  than  I  have 
had  to  gain  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  Indians. 
To-night  and  to-morrow  night,  as  secretly  as  may 
be,  I  will  have  the  goods  brought  in  and  de 
stroyed." 


Saved  from  Himself  3T5 

After  Mackenzie  went  home,  the  Captain  went 
out  to  walk  back  and  forth  on  the  prairie  near  the 
Fort.  His  head  was  bowed  and  his  arms  were 
folded.  In  spite  of  General  Hull's  order  and  the 
friendly  professions  of  the  Indians,  he  felt  the 
situation  keenly.  His  responsibility  sat  heavily 
upon  him,  for  he  knew  his  officers  were  opposed 
to  him  and  had  begun  to  suspect  that  the  men 
were  disaffected.  He  would  not  have  been  sur 
prised  at  a  mutiny,  feeling,  as  he  did,  that  it  was 
a  case  of  one  man  against  the  world. 

From  a  window,  Katherine  saw  him  walking  to 
and  fro,  and  at  first  she  thought  it  was  her  hus 
band,  but  a  second  look  convinced  her  of  her 
mistake.  She  was  about  to  turn  away  when 
something  arrested  her  attention. 

On  the  Captain's  right,  and  at  some  little  dis 
tance  from  him,  an  Indian  was  moving  stealthily 
toward  the  Fort.  On  his  left,  and  still  farther 
away  from  him,  another  was  doing  the  same  thing. 

The  Captain  turned  to  the  right,  and  instantly 
the  Indian  on  that  side  dropped  full  length  on 
the  grass,  while  the  other  moved  more  quickly 
toward  the  Fort.  When  the  Captain  turned  to 
the  left  the  manoeuvre  was  repeated,  but  it  was 
some  time  before  she  grasped  the  horrid  signifi 
cance  of  their  actions. 


316          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

When  she  perceived  that  both  Indians  were  en 
deavouring  to  get  between  the  Captain  and  the 
Fort,  the  blood  froze  in  her  veins.  The  parade- 
ground  was  deserted,  and  the  long,  droning  notes 
of  the  locusts  were  the  only  sound  she  heard. 
She  screamed,  but  the  Captain  did  not  turn,  and 
no  one  seemed  to  hear.  At  the  gate  the  sentinel 
leaned  on  his  musket,  unconscious  of  danger. 
She  screamed  again,  but  could  not  hear  her  own 
voice. 

Then  the  springs  of  action  threw  off  their  leth 
argy.  She  dashed  out  of  the  house  and  flew  over 
the  parade-ground,  with  the  taste  of  hot  blood  in 
her  mouth  and  a  heavy  weight  upon  her  breast. 
Trembling  in  every  nerve,  she  climbed  the  ladder 
that  led  to  the  blockhouse,  and  entered,  flushed 
and  gasping.  She  was  dimly  conscious  that  she 
was  not  alone,  but  there  was  no  time  to  waste. 

Praying  that  she  might  not  be  too  late,  she 
seized  a  loaded  musket,  aimed  through  the  port 
hole,  and  fired.  It  seemed  an  age  before  she  saw 
the  Captain  through  the  smoke,  running  back  to 
the  Fort,  and  the  two  Indians  making  for  the 
woods. 

"Thank  God!"  she  breathed,  "thank  God!" 
Then  she  turned — and  faced  her  husband,  his 
face  so  ghastly  that  she  scarcely  knew  him. 


Saved  from  Himself  317 

"  Ralph ! "  she  whispered,  hoarsely.     "  Ralph ! " 

His  eyes  refused  to  meet  hers,  and  a  tumult 
surged  in  her  brain.  Detached  pictures  of  her 
childhood,  confused  and  unrelated  memories,  and 
a  thousand  trivial  things  passed  swiftly  before  her 
mental  vision.  Then,  as  if  by  magic,  there  was  a 
clearing — all  things  gave  way  to  the  horrible  know 
ledge  that  he  had  seen — and  had  failed  to  warn. 

'  *  Ralph !     Ralph !     My  husband ! ' ' 

The  blood  beat  hard  in  her  pulses  and  her  lips 
curled  in  scorn.  Then  her  unspeakable  contempt 
melted  to  pity,  as  she  saw  how  the  man  was  suf 
fering.  Like  an  avenging  angel  she  stood  before 
him,  confronting  him  mutely  with  his  sin. 

Captain  Franklin  came  into  the  Fort.  As  the 
Lieutenant  saw  him  safe  and  sound,  he  groaned 
deeply,  like  one  whose  suspense  is  ended.  Then 
he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  face  of  his  wife. 

"I  thank  you,  Katherine,"  he  said,  gravely; 
"you  have  saved  me  from  myself." 


CHAPTER  XX 

RECONCILIATION 

THAT  night,  while  the  sentries  kept  guard, 
Lieutenant  Howard  paced  to  and  fro,  as 
sleepless  and  as  vigilant  as  they.  Now  and  then 
parties  of  soldiers  came  through  the  gates  with 
ammunition  or  liquor  from  the  Agency,  and  piled 
it  in  front  of  the  storehouse  to  await  the  Captain's 
orders.  Throughout  the  night  the  contraband 
goods  were  transported,  as  quietly  as  possible,  in 
order  that  the  suspicions  of  the  Indians  might  not 
be  aroused. 

The  Second  in  Command  was  in  the  midst  of 
that  battle  with  self  which  every  man  fights  at 
least  once  in  his  life.  The  events  of  the  past  few 
days  and  his  own  part  in  them  confronted  him 
with  persistent  accusation.  The  prairie  beyond 
the  Fort  and  the  figure  of  the  Captain  were  etched 
upon  his  mental  vision  with  the  acid  of  relentless 
memory. 

318 


Reconciliation  319 

The  scales  fell  from  his  eyes  at  last,  and  he  saw 
himself  clearly — mutinous,  insubordinate,  un 
worthy  of  his  office;  distrusting  his  wife  and 
alienating  his  friends.  Conscience,  too  long 
asleep,  awoke  to  demand  such  reparation  as  lay 
in  his  power  to  make. 

Ten  minutes  more  and  it  would  have  been  too 
late.  Ten  minutes  more  and  the  deadly  toma 
hawk  of  an  unseen  foe  would  have  been  buried  in 
the  Captain's  brain.  That  little  space  of  time  was 
all  that  stood  between  him  and  the  command  of 
Fort  Dearborn — a  command  which  he  had  planned 
to  use  in  open  rebellion  against  the  orders  of  his 
superior  officer. 

Cold  sweat  stood  out  upon  his  forehead,  and  his 
clenched  hands  trembled.  Ten  minutes  more  and 
he  would  have  been  a  murderer  in  deed  as  well  as 
in  thought,  though  his  hands  would  not  have  been 
stained  and  there  would  have  been  no  proof  of 
his  guilt.  The  pine  knots  blazed  fitfully  in  the 
crevices  of  the  stockade,  turning  to  a  ghastly 
glare  as  daylight  came  on.  "A  murderer!"  he 
said  to  himself  over  and  over  again;  "a  mur 
derer!"  He  was  like  one  who  wakes  from  some 
horrible  nightmare  with  the  spell  of  it  still  upon 
him,  and  wondering  yet  if  it  is  not  true. 

Behind  it  all  was  a  new  emotion, — a  new  feeling 


320          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

for  Katherine.  Her  hand  had  saved  him.  She 
had  drawn  him  back  from  the  brink  of  the  abyss 
even  as  the  ground  was  crumbling  beneath  his 
feet — Katherine,  his  wife,  whom  he  had  sworn  to 
love  and  to  cherish,  and  whom  he  had  made  mis 
erable  instead.  To-morrow,  or  at  most  the  day 
after,  would  see  the  end  of  it  all.  Two  days  re 
mained  in  which  to  make  atonement — two  days, 
snatched  from  the  past,  to  fulfil  the  promise  of 
the  future  that  once  had  seemed  so  fair. 

"  All  in,  sir,"  said  a  soldier.  "  Not  a  box  nor  a 
barrel  is  left  at  the  Agency.  It's  all  there."  He 
pointed  to  a  pyramid  in  front  of  the  storehouse, 
which  was  almost  as  high  as  the  building  itself. 

"No  one  saw  you?"  queried  the  Lieutenant. 

"No,  sir;  no  one  saw.  One  of  the  pickets  has 
just  come  in,  and  he  says,  sir,  that  every  blamed 
Injun  is  up  in  the  north  woods.  There's  been  a 
dance  going  on  all  night." 

"Very  well,"  answered  the  Lieutenant,  care 
lessly;  but  his  heart  sank  within  him. 

"Mad  Margaret  was  there,  too,  sir — she  was 
havin'  one  of  her  spells." 

"Well,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  sharply,  "what  of 
it?" 

"Nothing,  sir — excuse  me,  sir."  The  soldier 
saluted  and  went  away. 


Reconciliation  3  2 1 

The  night  wind  died  down  and  the  sun  rose  in 
a  fury  of  heat.  No  clouds  softened  the  hard, 
metallic  sky — it  was  like  a  concave  mirror  on 
which  the  sun  beat  pitilessly. 

The  guard  was  changed,  and  presently  Doctor 
Norton  came  out  on  the  parade-ground.  When 
he  saw  who  was  there,  he  turned  to  go  back,  then 
waited,  for  the  Lieutenant  was  coming  swiftly 
toward  him. 

They  faced  each  other  for  a  moment,  like  ad 
versaries  measuring  the  opposing  strength,  then 
Norton  smiled.  "Well?"  he  asked  calmly. 

"  I  have  not  come  to  you,"  said  the  Lieutenant, 
thickly,  "as  you  have  doubtless  expected  me  to. 
We  have  no  time  to  cherish  any  sort  of  a  grudge 
when,  in  two  days  at  least,  we  start  for  Fort 
Wayne.  You  know  what  awaits  us  on  the  way, 
and  if  worst  comes  to  worst,  and  I  can  no  longer 
protect  her,  I  ask  you  to  make  Mrs.  Howard  your 
especial  care." 

Schooled  as  he  was  in  self-control,  the  Doctor 
started,  and  the  expression  of  his  face  changed  as 
he  looked  keenly  at  the  Lieutenant. 

"What!"  cried  the  other,  scornfully,  "are  you 
not  willing  to  do  that  much  for  her?" 

"Lieutenant  Howard,  as  you  say,  it  is  no  time 
to  cherish  a  grudge.  What  you  have  asked  of  me 


322          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

would  be  an  honour  at  any  time,  but  I  will  not 
accept  the  trust  until  you  know  from  me  how  I 
stand.  I  love  your  wife  with  all  my  heart  and 
soul." 

"Have  you  told  her  so?"  asked  Howard, 
quickly. 

"In  words,  no — but  I  think  she  understands— 
in  fact,  I  hope  and  believe  that  she  understands." 

The  silence  was  tense,  and  Lieutenant  Howard 
gnawed  his  mustache  nervously.  His  hand  went 
to  his  belt  instinctively,  then  dropped  to  his  side. 

"I  fear  you  have  misjudged  her,"  the  Doctor 
continued.  "A  purer,  truer  woman  never  drew 
the  breath  of  life.  In  word  or  act  or  thought  she 
has  never  been  disloyal  to  you.  I  said  a  moment 
ago  that  I  loved  her,  but  it  is  more  than  that — it 
is  the  worship  that  a  man  gives  to  a  woman  as 
far  above  him  as  the  stars." 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Howard,  in  a  hoarse  whis 
per,  "you  are  well  fitted  to  protect  her." 

"  You  still  offer  me  that  trust  ? ' '  asked  the  other, 
eagerly. 

The  answer  was  scarcely  audible.     "I  do." 

Their  eyes  met  in  a  long  look  of  keen  scrutiny 
on  one  side,  and  of  fearless  honesty  upon  the 
other.  Then  Norton  extended  his  hand.  The 
Lieutenant  grasped  it,  caught  his  breath  quickly, 


Reconciliation  323 

then  turned  away,  for  once  the  master  of  him 
self. 

Beatrice  came  out  of  the  Captain's  house  and 
smiled  at  him  as  he  stood  there  with  his  head 
bowed.  "You're — you're  out  early,"  he  said, 
with  an  effort. 

"I  couldn't  sleep.  It  was  hot,  and — Cousin 
Ralph,  you  must  tell  me.  I  am  not  a  child,  to  be 
kept  in  the  dark.  What  is  this  horrible  thing  that 
seems  to  be  hovering  over  us?  Uncle  John  does 
not  speak  to  any  one;  twice  yesterday  I  found 
Aunt  Eleanor  crying ;  Cousin  Rob  and  Mr.  Ronald 
are  not  in  the  least  like  themselves ;  Kit  and  Mrs. 
Franklin  are  as  pale  as  ghosts,  and  you — I  saw 
you  walking  here  all  night.  What  does  it  mean? 
Tell  me!" 

"  We  fear  attack,"  he  answered  sharply. 

"Indians  or  British?" 

"  Indians— under  British  orders." 

For  a  moment  the  girl  stared  at  him  as  if  she 
did  not  believe  what  he  said.  "Would  they — 
would  they —  '  she  gasped,  "turn  those  fiends 
upon  us?" 

"Yes,"  he  cried,  "they  would!  They  have 
done  so  in  times  past  and  they  will  do  so  again! 
They — I  beg  your  pardon — I  have  forgotten  my 
self  _i_i_» 


324          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"Cousin  Ralph,  you  are  not  well.  You  have 
walked  all  night,  and  you  need  rest.  I  under 
stand  your  anxiety,  your  fears  for  us,  but  you 
need  not  be  alarmed.  We  are  women,  but  we 
are  weak  only  in  body — at  heart  we  are  soldiers 
like  you,  and,  like  you,  we  will  obey  orders. 
Cousin  Ralph !  You  are  ill !  Come ! ' ' 

He  staggered,  but  did  not  fall.  Beatrice  put  her 
arm  around  him  and  helped  him  home.  "  Don't 
be  frightened,  Kit,"  she  said,  when  the  door  was 
opened;  "he's  just  tired.  He's  been  up  all 
night  and  sleep  will  bring  him  to  himself  again." 

"Can  I  help?"  asked  Forsyth,  anxiously.  He 
had  come  to  ask  Beatrice  if  she  would  not  break 
fast  at  home. 

"Yes,  please,"  said  Mrs.  Howard,  quietly. 
"Help  me  get  him  into  bed.  He  has  been  under 
a  great  nervous  strain." 

Beatrice  sat  on  the  piazza,  and  waited.  She 
had  said  she  was  not  weak,  but  she  was  suffer 
ing  keenly,  none  the  less.  After  a  little  Robert 
came  back.  "He  went  to  sleep  immediately," 
he  said;  "but  Mrs.  Howard  prefers  to  stay  with 
him." 

"Then  we'll  go  home,"  she  sighed.  Together 
they  went  out  of  the  stockade  into  the  merciless 
heat  that  already  had  set  shimmering  waves  to 


Reconciliation  325 

vibrating  in  the  air.  She  drooped  like  a  broken 
lily — her  strength  was  gone. 

Robert's  heart  went  out  to  her  in  pity,  and 
something  more.  When  they  reached  the  piazza 
he  put  his  hand  upon  her  arm.  "  Beatrice,  dear," 
he  said,  softly,  "lean  on  me.  I  cannot  bear  to 
see  you  so — my  darling,  let  me  help  you!" 

His  voice  shook,  but  she  did  not  seem  to  hear. 
"I'm  tired,"  she  answered  dully;  "  I— I  didn't 
sleep."  She  put  him  away  from  her  very  gently. 
"  I — I  'm  so  tired,"  she  repeated,  with  an  hysterical 
laugh  that  sounded  like  a  sob.  "  I  don't  want 
any  breakfast — I  just  want  to  lie  down  and  rest. 
Don't  let  Aunt  Eleanor  worry." 

She  went  down  the  passage  unsteadily,  and  he 
watched  her  until  she  was  safely  within  her  own 
room.  He  quieted  Mrs.  Mackenzie's  fears  as  best 
he  could,  and  managed  to  eat  a  part  of  his  break 
fast,  though  it  was  as  dust  and  ashes  in  his  mouth. 

"Rob,"  said  the  trader,  "can  you  help  me 
to-day?" 

"Certainly,  Uncle." 

"  We've  got  to  get  all  the  goods  out  of  here  and 
out  of  the  Agency,  and  divide  them  into  lots  of 
equal  value.  Black  Partridge  says  seven  hundred 
of  his  people  are  entitled  to  the  gifts.  The  Cap 
tain  and  I  decided  last  night  to  put  the  things  out 


326          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

behind  the  Fort,  send  the  Indians  by  in  single 
file,  and  let  each  one  choose  as  he  will.  Black 
Partridge  agreed  to  the  plan.  He  will  form  the 
line  himself,  so  there's  no  chance  for  trouble." 

The  bateau  was  put  into  service,  and  Chandon- 
nais  was  instructed  to  carry  all  the  stores  from  the 
trading  station  to  the  esplanade,  where  two  of  the 
soldiers  kept  guard.  Mackenzie  and  Forsyth, 
with  the  aid  of  a  number  of  soldiers,  carried  out 
nearly  all  the  stores  from  the  Agency  House,  re 
serving  only  the  provisions  needed  for  the  march. 

Mackenzie  had  made  out  lists  the  night  before 
from  his  inventory,  so  the  task  was  not  as  diffi 
cult  as  it  first  appeared.  As  the  men  brought  out 
the  goods,  articles  of  a  kind  were  grouped  together, 
so,  with  the  aid  of  his  note-book,  the  lots  were 
quickly  formed. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  heat,  the  task  would 
have  been  finished  by  noon;  but  two  o'clock 
found  the  tired  men  still  at  work  and  the  long  line 
of  Indians  waiting  impatiently,  kept  back  by  the 
pickets  on  guard  and  the  commands  of  their  chief. 

"Why,"  said  Mackenzie,  in  surprise,  "the 
things  are  n't  all  here.  Three  blankets  are  miss 
ing,  two  hams,  a  side  of  bacon,  some  calico,  and 
I  don't  know  what  all." 

"Have  n't  you  made  a  mistake,  Uncle?" 


Reconciliation  327 

"No,  I'm  sure  I  haven't.  Somebody  must 
have  stolen  them,  but  I  don't  know  how  nor  when 
it  could  have  happened.  Go  up  to  the  Fort,  Rob, 
and  get  all  the  blankets  they  can  spare — I  can 
even  up  while  you're  gone." 

The  Indians  were  waiting  with  ill-concealed 
eagerness,  and  in  half  an  hour  more  the  word  was 
given.  Each  went  in  turn  to  the  wide  stretch  of 
prairie  where  the  piles  of  merchandise  were  placed, 
and  where  sentinels  were  stationed  to  prevent 
stealing.  When  one  started  back  with  his  goods, 
another  went,  and  so  on,  until  late  in  the  after 
noon. 

On  account  of  the  great  number  of  Indians 
and  the  reservation  of  provisions  for  the  march, 
as  well  as  four  months'  depletion  of  the  stores,  the 
portion  of  each  one  was  small ;  but  there  were  no 
signs  of  discontent  until  the  distribution  was  over 
and  the  last  Indian  gathered  up  the  single  pile 
that  was  left  and  went  back  to  his  place  at  the 
foot  of  the  line. 

Then  Black  Partridge  called  Mackenzie  and  said 
he  wished  to  speak  to  Captain  Franklin. 

"The  goods  of  the  White  Father  have  been 
given  to  his  children,  the  red  men,"  translated 
Mackenzie.  "  We  have  received  the  blankets,  cal 
icoes,  prints,  paints,  broadcloths,  and  the  tobacco 


328          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

that  the  White  Father  promised  us  at  the  second 
hour  after  noon  of  yesterday's  sun.  All  is  as  it  was 
written.  But  where  is  the  powder  and  shot  of 
the  Great  White  Father?  Where  are  the  muskets 
that  were  in  the  storehouse?  Why  can  we  not 
have  weapons  for  our  hunting  during  the  long 
Winter  that  is  but  four  moons  away? 

"  The  feet  of  the  palefaces  have  a  strange  tread. 
They  have  frightened  away  the  deer,  the  wolves, 
and  the  foxes  that  the  Great  Spirit  has  placed  in 
the  forest  for  his  children  to  slay.  Where  is  the 
firewater  that  strengthens  the  arm  and  the  heart 
of  the  red  man — the  firewater  which  is  the  best 
gift  of  the  Great  White  Father?  Much  of  it  was 
in  the  storehouse — we  have  seen  it  with  our  own 
eyes,  but  now  it  is  gone." 

"Say  to  him,"  said  the  Captain,  "that  when 
the  strange  tread  of  the  palefaces  has  died  away 
on  the  trail,  the  forest  will  once  more  fill  with 
the  wolves  and  the  deer  and  the  foxes  that 
the  Great  Spirit  has  given  for  his  children  to 
kill.  In  the  meantime,  we  leave  our  cattle  for 
our  brothers,  the  Pottawattomies,  beside  whom 
we  have  so  long  dwelt  in  peace.  The  grass  is 
green  upon  the  plains  and  there  is  water  for  all. 
When  the  long  Winter  night  comes  upon  them, 
the  hay  that  we  have  stacked  in  the  fields  will 


Reconciliation  329 

sustain  the  cattle  until  the  Great  Spirit  once  more 
sends  the  sun.  There  are  roots  in  our  store 
houses  with  which  they  may  do  as  they  please,  and 
they  will  not  miss  the  deer  and  the  wolves  and  the 
foxes  that  the  palefaces  have  frightened  away. 

"The  firewater  which  our  brothers  think  they 
have  seen  in  our  storehouses  was  not  firewater, 
but  only  empty  casks.  The  red  man  is  brave, 
and  it  has  been  written  by  the  Great  White 
Father  that  he  needs  no  firewater  to  strengthen 
his  arm  and  his  heart.  It  is  for  women  and  for 
children  and  for  men  who  are  not  strong,  as  the 
medicine  man  of  the  Pottawattomies  has  told 
them  many  times.  It  would  be  displeasing  to  the 
Great  White  Father  should  we  take  away  the 
firewater  from  the  palefaces  who  need  it,  for 
the  sake  of  the  red  men  who  need  it  not. 

"We  have  given  to  our  brothers  freely  all  that 
we  have  to  give.  It  is  a  sorrow  in  our  hearts  that 
there  is  not  more,  but  our  storehouses  are  empty, 
as  they  must  see,  and  other  gifts  are  promised  at 
the  place  of  our  assembly. 

"When  other  moons  have  waxed  and  waned, 
and  when  the  Great  White  Father  has  made 
known  unto  us  his  commands,  we  shall  return 
once  more  to  the  river  and  the  plains  to  dwell  by 
the  Great  Blue  Water  with  our  brothers,  the 


33°          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Pottawattomies,  whose  kindness  and  whose  wise 
counsels  are  forever  written  in  our  hearts." 

"  They  say  it  is  well,"  said  Mackenzie,  when  the 
long  speech  and  its  brief  answer  had  been  trans 
lated;  "and  that  they  will  pray  unceasingly  to 
the  Great  Spirit  that  the  moons  may  be  few  ere 
the  friends  of  the  red  men  return." 

Forsyth  and  Mackenzie  went  home  thoroughly 
exhausted.  Night  brought  no  relief  from  the  in 
tense  heat,  and  the  guards  paced  listlessly  to  and 
fro.  Under  cover  of  the  darkness  a  small  com 
pany  of  soldiers,  under  Ronald's  orders,  broke  up 
the  muskets  and  flint-locks,  wet  down  the  powder, 
put  the  shot  into  the  well  in  the  sally-port,  and 
knocked  in  the  heads  of  the  barrels  containing 
liquor. 

Careful  as  they  were,  noise  was  inevitable. 
Barrel  after  barrel  was  rolled  to  the  river  bank 
and  its  contents  poured  into  the  stream.  A  cask 
of  alcohol  shared  the  same  fate,  and  the  peculiar, 
pungent  odour  filled  the  air. 

"It's  too  late,  sir,"  said  a  soldier,  when  he  came 
in,  rolling  the  last  empty  barrel  before  him. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Ronald. 

"The  Indians,  sir.  Three  of  them  are  lying  in 
the  grass  downstream,  drinking  the  river  water 
for  the  sake  of  the  grog." 


Reconciliation  33 l 

"  Where  are  the  rest?" 

"  In  the  woods,  sir,  dancing,  same  as  last  night. 
The  northern  pickets  told  me,  sir." 

A  long,  low  whistle  came  from  the  Ensign's 
lips.  "  If  I  might  be  so  bold,  sir,"  continued  the 
man,  in  a  low  tone,  "some  of  the  boys  have 
thought  as  how  you  were  n't  falling  in  with  this 
order  of  the  Cap'n's.  Orders  is  orders — we  know 
that — but  the  boys  are  with  you,  to  a  man.  We  '11 
do  whatever  you  say,  sir." 

In  spite  of  the  threat  which  the  words  veiled, 
Ronald  was  deeply  touched  by  the  devotion  of 
the  barracks.  He  laid  his  hand  on  the  man's 
shoulders  before  speaking. 

"To  be  with  me  is  to  be  with  the  Captain,"  he 
said.  "It  is  one  and  the  same.  Trying  times 
must  come  to  all  of  us,  and  for  a  soldier  there 
can  be  no  nobler  end  than  to  die  fighting  for  his 
country.  Captain  Franklin  will  ask  no  one  of  us 
to  go  where  he  would  not  go  himself.  Tell  the 
boys  that,  and  that  to  stand  by  the  Captain  is  to 
stand  by  me." 

"All  right,  sir.  And  the  barrels  isn't  all 
emptied.  There's  a  cask  over  in  the  barracks. 
The  boys  thought  it  might  hearten  'em  up  a  bit, 
and  they  said,  sir,  that  you  would  n't  care." 

"You  are  welcome  to  it,"  answered  Ronald, 


332          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

absently,  "  but  make  a  good  use  of  it.  We  '11  need 
a  steady  hand,  each  and  every  man  of  us,  when 
we  start  out  on  the  march." 

The  night  sentinels  came  on  and  the  soldier 
went  on  to  the  barracks,  where  his  comrades  were 
making  merry  with  the  wine,  "I  wonder,"  said 
Ronald  to  himself,  ''what  would  have  happened 
if  he  had  said  that  to — to  another?" 

Even  in  his  thought  he  did  not  name  the  Lieu 
tenant,  but,  as  he  passed  the  house,  he  saw  Kath- 
erine  moving  back  and  forth  before  the  open 
window.  ' '  Poor  girl, ' '  he  said  aloud.  ' '  Poor  girl ! ' ' 

Katherine  had  had  a  hard  day,  even  though  her 
husband  had  slept  without  a  break  since  Forsyth 
helped  her  get  him  into  bed.  At  first  she  thought 
he  had  been  drinking,  though  she  knew  he  was 
not  in  the  habit  of  it.  Mrs.  Franklin  had  been 
over  and  had  been  told  indifferently  that  the 
Lieutenant  was  tired  out  and  was  resting. 

It  was  late  when  he  awoke,  rubbed  his  eyes, 
and  sat  up  in  bed.  Katherine  went  to  him  and 
put  her  cool  hand  upon  his  hot  face.  "Are  you 
better,  dear?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  he  sighed;  "I'm  all  right.  It's  hot, 
isn't  it?" 

She  sat  down  on  the  bed  beside  him  and  talked 
to  him  soothingly,  as  if  he  were  a  tired  child.  She 


Reconciliation  333 

told  him  everything  that  had  occurred  during  the 
day,  and  said  she  was  glad  he  could  rest.  She  got 
him  a  glass  of  water,  then  bathed  his  flushed  face 
with  a  soft  cloth  and  stroked  his  hands  gently 
with  her  cool  fingers. 

For  a  long  time  he  watched  her  as  she  minis 
tered  to  him  with  unfailing  gentleness.  Her 
straight  shoulders  were  bent  a  little  and  there 
were  lines  upon  her  face;  but  the  ashen  gold  of 
her  hair  and  the  deep  blue  of  her  eyes  were  the 
same  as  when  he  first  loved  her — so  long  ago. 
He  remembered  the  mad  joy  that  possessed  him 
when  his  lips  first  touched  hers,  and  the  crushing 
sorrow  of  their  bereavement,  which  should  have 
drawn  them  closer  together,  but  instead  had 
driven  them  apart.  He  knew  that  another  man 
loved  her  and  that  she  knew  it  also,  yet  she  had 
been  loyal. 

As  she  went  out,  he  wondered  whether  another 
woman  in  her  place  would  have  been  true  to  him. 
With  a  swift  searching  of  self  he  tried  to  remem 
ber  some  tender  word  that  he  had  said  to  her,  but 
it  was  all  blotted  out,  as  if  darkness  had  come 
between  them.  For  the  first  time  he  looked  at 
their  life  together  from  her  point  of  view,  and 
shuddered  as  he  saw  how  she  might  think  of  him. 
Her  silence  and  her  patience  were  evident  to  him, 


334          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

as  they  had  not  been  before.  Many  a  time  he  had 
seen  the  blue  eyes  fill  and  the  sweet  mouth  trem 
ble  at  some  careless  word  of  his,  and  often,  too, 
he  had  seen  her  shut  her  teeth  together  hard  when 
some  shaft  was  meant  to  sting. 

Two  days  were  left — no,  only  one — for  it  was 
night  now.  One  day  in  which  to  atone  for  the 
countless  hurts  of  the  past  four  years.  The 
dominant  self  melted  into  unwonted  tenderness  as 
she  came  back  into  the  room. 

"  I  was  gone  too  long,"  she  said  quickly ;  "  but  I 
did  n't  mean  to  be." 

"  Katherine!"  he  said  in  a  new  voice. 

11  Yes,  dear;  what  is  it?"  She  sat  down  beside 
him  once  more  and  looked  anxiously  into  his  face, 
fearing  that  he  was  ill. 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  she  asked  again. 

4 'Nothing,"  he  said  huskily;  "only  that  I  love 
you  and  I  want  you  to  forgive  me." 

"Ralph!  Ralph!"  she  cried,  sinking  into  his 
arms,  "there's  nothing  to  forgive;  but  I've 
prayed  so  long  that  I  might  hear  you  say  it ! " 

"Will  you?"  he  pleaded,  with  his  face  hidden 
against  her  breast. 

"  Yes,"  she  cried,  "  a  thousand  times,  yes !  I  've 
wanted  you  to  love  me  as  I've  never  wanted  any 
thing  else  in  the  world!" 


Reconciliation 


335 


"I  love  you  with  all  my  soul,"  he  said  simply. 

"I "     A  catch  in  his  throat  put  an  end  to 

speech,  for  her  love-lit  face,  wet  with  tears,  was 
very  near  to  his.  His  arms  closed  hungrily  around 
her,  and  the  lips  that  but  a  moment  before  were 
quivering  with  sobs,  were  crushed  in  eternal  par 
don  against  his  own. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  LAST  DAY  IN  THE  FORT 

"  OIR,"  said  a  soldier;  "some  one  is  coming!" 

O     ''From  which  way?"  asked  the  Captain. 

"South,  sir." 

Captain  Franklin  climbed  the  ladder  that  led 
into  the  blockhouse  at  the  south-east  corner  of  the 
stockade,  wondering  whether  it  was  friend  or  foe 
who  approached.  Dim  upon  the  far  horizon  was 
a  single  rider,  who  moved  slowly,  as  if  his  horse 
were  tired.  Behind  him  marched  a  small  com 
pany  of  Indians. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  it,  sir  ? "  asked  the  guard 
in  the  blockhouse,  anxiously. 

"He  bears  no  flag,"  answered  the  Captain. 
" Train  the  guns  and  wait  for  a  signal." 

Only  the  north  gate  of  the  Fort  was  open,  and, 
as  always  of  late,  it  was  well  protected ;  but,  none 
the  less,  the  Captain's  heart  was  heavy.  He 
strained  his  eyes  toward  the  rider,  far  across  the 

336 


The  Last  Day  in  the  Fort        337 

sun-baked  prairie,  and  the  minutes  seemed  like 
hours.  The  man  sat  his  horse  like  an  Indian,  yet, 
someway,  even  at  the  distance,  conveyed  the  im 
pression  that  he  was  a  white  man. 

The  news  quickly  spread,  and  the  soldiers  who 
were  off  duty  mounted  the  stockade.  As  the  com 
pany  came  nearer,  the  rider  waved  his  hat,  but 
the  men  at  the  Fort  made  no  answer  until  one 
soldier,  with  keener  eyes  than  the  rest,  shouted 
joyously,  "Captain  Wells!" 

' '  Captain  Wells !  Captain  Wells ! ' '  The  parade- 
ground  rang  with  the  cry.  The  two  fifes  and  two 
drums  struck  up  a  military  air,  and  a  small  escort 
marched  to  meet  him. 

"Captain  Wells!"  The  shout  brought  every 
soldier  to  the  front,  and  even  the  women,  smiling, 
waited  for  him  at  the  gate.  The  escort  turned 
back,  and,  swiftly  upon  the  sound  of  the  music, 
the  cannon  boomed  a  welcome. 

When  the  travel-stained  rider  dismounted,  Cap 
tain  Franklin  wrung  his  hand  as  if  he  never  would 
let  it  go.  "God  bless  you,"  he  cried;  "what 
brought  you  here?" 

"Orders  from  General  Hull,"  answered  Captain 
Wells.  "  I  have  brought  thirty  faithful  Miami 
Indians  to  escort  your  command  to  Fort  Wayne." 

Beatrice,   Forsyth,   the   Mackenzies  and  their 


338          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

children,  as  well  as  every  one  at  the  Fort,  gave 
Captain  Wells  a  warm  reception.  "Come  to  our 
house,"  said  Katherine. 

"  He's  not  going  to  your  house,"  answered  Mrs. 
Franklin.  "He's  my  uncle,  and  he's  coming  to 
mine." 

It  was  some  time  before  the  Indian  escort  was 
taken  care  of,  and  Wells  and  Franklin  had  an 
opportunity  to  discuss  the  situation. 

"How  are  things  with  you?"  asked  Wells, 
anxiously. 

"All  right,  I  guess;  I've  been  doing  the  best  I 
can.  On  the  ninth  I  received  orders  from  Gen 
eral  Hull  to  evacuate  the  post  and  proceed  with 
my  command  to  Detroit  by  land,  leaving  it  to  my 
discretion  to  dispose  of  the  public  property  as  I 
thought  proper.  The  Indians  got  the  information 
as  early  as  I  did,  and  they  have  come  from  all 
quarters  to  receive  the  gifts.  I  asked  Black  Par 
tridge  to  summon  his  people,  but  I  don't  believe 
all  the  Indians  here  are  Pottawattomies.  I  have 
given  them  all  the  goods  in  the  factory  store,  and 
all  the  provisions  which  we  cannot  take  with  us. 
I  have  destroyed  the  surplus  arms  and  ammuni 
tion,  fearing  they  would  make  a  bad  use  of  it,  and 
I  have  also  destroyed  all  the  liquor." 

"Do  the  Indians  seem  friendly?" 


The  Last  Day  in  the  Fort        339 

"Yes — of  course  they  wanted  the  ammunition 
and  liquor,  but  I  explained  that.  There  has  been 
some  friction  here  at  the  post.  The  Mackenzies, 
of  course,  are  opposed  to  going,  and  the  feeling 
has  affected  others.  There  does  not  seem  to  be 
much  danger,  though,  unless  the  British  come 
down  from  Fort  Mackinac,  which  seems  hardly 
possible.  The  Indians  have  promised  to  see  us 
safely  to  Fort  Wayne,  but  then — what's  the  pro 
mise  of  an  Indian?" 

"Not  much,  I  admit,"  answered  Wells;  "but 
I'm  here  to  stand  by  you.  If  worst  comes  to 
worst,  here's  one  more  man  to  fight.  I'm  with 
you  to  the  last." 

"  It  is  a  great  relief  to  me,"  said  Franklin,  after 
an  eloquent  silence,  "for  I  have  felt  myself  alone 
—one  man  against  the  world." 

"I'd  do  all  I  could  for  your  wife's  sake,  if  for 
no  other  reason.  Call  an  Indian  council  this 
afternoon  and  let  me  talk  to  them." 

Franklin's  face  brightened.  "  The  very  thing ! " 
he  cried.  "  I  '11  give  the  order  at  once."  Then  he 
grasped  the  other's  hand  and  said  again,  "God 
bless  you!" 

At  the  appointed  hour  in  the  afternoon  the 
entire  company  of  Indians  assembled  upon  the 


34°          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

esplanade.  After  ceremonious  greetings  were  ex 
changed  with  the  chiefs,  Captain  Wells  turned  to 
the  others. 

"A  good  day  to  you,  my  brothers,"  he  said. 
"The  time  has  seemed  long  indeed  since  we 
parted.  I  see  among  you  many  new  faces  from 
the  far  country,  and  I  am  rejoiced  to  learn  that 
you  have  promised  to  accompany  the  White 
Father  and  his  people  to  the  assembling  place. 
Had  I  known  of  this  I  should  not  have  come,  but 
should  have  trusted  wholly  to  my  brothers. 

' '  However,  it  is  a  happiness  to  me  to  see  my 
friends  once  more.  Although  I  am  a  white  man, 
I  have  been  brought  up  like  one  of  you.  I  have 
learned  the  secrets  of  the  forest  and  the  trail  and 
I  have  fought  side  by  side  with  the  red  men.  For 
many  of  you  I  have  sad  news.  The  Great  Chief, 
Little  Turtle,  whose  daughter  I  have  taken  in 
marriage,  went  to  the  happy  hunting  grounds  on 
the  fourteenth  day  of  the  last  moon. 

"Were  he  alive  he  would  send  his  greetings  to 
his  brothers  who  are  here  assembled.  Thirty  of 
his  people  have  come  with  me  to  lead  the  Ameri 
cans  safely  upon  the  trail.  For  three  or  more 
days  must  we  journey,  since  the  feet  of  the  pale 
faces  are  slow,  but  we  have  no  fears.  From  the 
dangers  of  the  day  and  the  night,  from  wild  beasts, 


The  Last  Day  in  the  Fort        34 l 

from  every  creature  that  stalks  abroad  with  in 
tent  to  slay;  from  the  unlearned  tribes  who  are 
unfriendly  to  the  whites,  and  from  the  warriors  of 
another  White  Chief,  who  may  be  known  by  their 
red  coats,  we  will  protect  our  friends.  It  has  been 
written  by  the  Great  White  Father  that  after  we 
have  led  his  people  safely  to  the  assembling  place, 
many  gifts  shall  be  distributed  among  us  there. 
My  brothers,  I  bid  you  farewell." 

Silently  the  Indians  went  back  to  the  woods. 
No  answer  was  made  to  the  speech  except  that  it 
was  good,  and  that  all  should  be  as  it  was  written. 

" Franklin,"  said  Wells,  when  they  were  again 
alone,  ''everything  seems  to  be  all  right,  and  yet 
I  scent  trouble.  Do  you  suppose  they  have  re 
ceived  orders  from  the  British  to  cut  us  off?" 

"I  wish  I  knew,"  answered  Franklin,  sadly; 
"and  yet  what  could  I  do?" 

"  We  must  get  out  of  here  as  quickly  as  possible. 
How  much  ammunition  have  you  reserved  ? ' ' 

"Twenty-five  rounds  per  man." 

' '  How  about  provisions  ? ' ' 

"We  have  enough  for  a  long  march.  We'll 
take  all  we  can,  and  give  the  remainder  to  the 
Indians  on  reaching  Fort  Wayne." 

"  How  many  horses  have  you?" 

"  Enough  for  the  officers  and  the  women,  as  well 


342          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

as  for  the  waggons.  The  children  can  go  in  the 
waggons." 

"Things  are  better  than  I  feared,"  said  Wells. 
"I  hope  we'll  get  through  all  right — at  any  rate 
we'll  do  our  best." 

Orders  were  given  for  an  early  start  on  the  fol 
lowing  morning,  and  the  baggage  of  each  person 
was  limited  to  the  absolute  essentials.  The  day 
passed  in  active  preparations  for  departure,  and 
the  appearance  of  Captain  Wells,  with  the  guard, 
had  lightened  the  situation  considerably. 

All  of  the  pine  knots  that  were  left  were  fas 
tened  between  the  bars  of  the  stockade,  as  the 
soldiers  had  determined  to  illuminate  in  honour  of 
Captain  Wells.  The  day  had  promised  to  be  a 
little  cooler,  but  the  lake  breeze  of  early  morning 
soon  retreated  before  the  onslaught  of  the  south 
west  wind. 

The  women  had  packed  up  their  toilet  articles 
and  a  few  little  trinkets  valued  for  their  associa 
tions,  and  the  kit  of  every  soldier  was  in  readiness. 
Forsyth  made  a  belt  for  his  sword,  pistol,  and  car 
tridges,  which  looked  oddly  enough  when  it  was 
fastened  over  his  suit  of  rusty  black.  Beatrice 
had  recovered  her  spirit  enough  to  laugh  heartily 
at  the  picture  he  presented. 

All  save  Ronald  were  more  cheerful  than  they 


The  Last  Day  in  the  Fort        343 

had  been  for  many  a  day.  He  walked  about  as  if 
he  were  in  a  trance,  and  when  he  was  spoken  to 
he  did  not  seem  to  hear.  More  than  once  he  was 
seen  staring  into  space  with  a  glassy  look  in  his 
eyes. 

In  the  evening  the  Mackenzies  became  sad  at 
the  prospect  of  leaving  their  old  home,  as  they 
sat  before  the  desolate  hearth,  side  by  side,  for 
the  last  time.  For  a  little  while  Beatrice  sat 
there  with  them.  The  children  were  asleep,  Rob 
ert  was  finishing  his  packing,  and  she  felt  herself 
an  intruder,  so  at  last  she  stole  away  and  went 
over  to  the  Fort,  where  the  pine  knots  blazed 
with  a  lurid  light  and  cast  shadows  afar. 

Lieutenant  Howard  and  Katherine  were  on  the 
piazza  at  Franklin's,  where  Captain  Wells  sat  with 
his  hosts.  Under  cover  of  the  darkness  the  Lieu 
tenant  was  holding  Katherine 's  hand,  and  Cap 
tain  Franklin  sat  with  his  arm  over  the  back  of 
his  wife's  chair. 

"See  what  it  is  to  be  a  spinster,"  laughed 
Beatrice,  as  she  approached.  "  Captain  Wells, 
would  you  mind  holding  my  hand  ? ' ' 

Wells  stammered  an  excuse,  for  he  was  unused 
to  the  ways  of  women,  and  Beatrice  made  him 
the  subject  of  her  playful  scorn.  "Am  I  so  un 
attractive,  then?"  she  queried,  looking  sideways 


344          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

at  the  discomfited  Captain  from  under  her  droop 
ing  lids. 

"  N— no,"  answered  Wells,  miserably ;  "  but—" 
He  floundered  into  helpless  silence,  not  at  all  re 
lieved  by  the  laughter  of  the  others. 

That  evening,  if  at  no  other  time,  Beatrice  was 
beautiful.  Her  high  colour  had  faded  to  a  lan 
guorous  paleness,  and  the  harshness  of  her  man 
ner  was  gone.  Her  trailing  white  gown  was 
turned  in  a  little  at  her  round,  white  throat,  and 
her  long,  shining  hair  hung  far  below  her  waist  in 
a  heavy  braid. 

"  Ronald,"  called  the  Lieutenant,  "  come  here!" 

The  Ensign  came  slowly  across  the  parade- 
ground.  His  shoulders  drooped  and  his  face  was 
very  pale.  "  What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

The  tone  was  unlike  Ronald.  "  Nothing,"  re 
plied  the  Lieutenant,  "  except  that  Beatrice  wants 
somebody  to  hold  her  hand  and  Captain  Wells 
won't.  He's  too  bashful,  and  the  rest  of  us  are 
occupied." 

"It's  too  hot,"  sighed  the  Ensign.  He  sat 
down  on  the  piazza,  near  Beatrice,  and  fanned 
himself  with  his  cap ;  but  he  took  no  part  in  the 
conversation,  and  did  not  even  answer  Kather- 
ine's  "good-night"  when  her  husband  took  her 
home. 


The  Last  Day  in  the  Fort        345 

"I'm  going  in,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  "if 
nobody  minds.  I'm  very  tired." 

Franklin  and  Wells  talked  listlessly,  feeling  the 
restraint  of  the  others'  presence.  "Come  out  for 
a  little  while,"  said  Ronald  to  Beatrice.  "  I  don't 
think  they  want  us  here." 

The  full  moon  was  low  in  the  heavens  and  the 
lake  was  calm.  They  went  out  of  the  Fort  and 
down  near  the  water,  but  still  he  did  not  speak. 
Then  Beatrice  put  her  hand  on  his  arm.  "  What 's 
wrong  with  you?"  she  asked  softly;  "can't  you 
tell  me?" 

His  breath  came  quickly  at  her  touch  and  he 
swallowed  hard.  "  Heart's  Desire,"  he  said  husk 
ily,  "  I  die  to-morrow — will  you  tell  me  you  love 
me  to-night  ? ' ' 

"  Die ! "  cried  Beatrice.     ' '  What  do  you  mean  ? ' ' 

"Sweet,  the  death  watch  ticked  last  night- 
Norton  and  I  heard  it  and  most  of  the  men.  To 
night,  while  I  have  eyes  to  see  and  ears  to  hear, 
let  me  dream  that  you  are  kind.  Since  that  first 
day,  when  I  saw  you  across  the  river,  I  have  hun 
gered  for  you ;  yes,  I  have  thirsted  for  you  like  a 
man  in  the  desert  who  sees  the  blessed,  life-giving 
water  just  beyond  his  reach.  My  arms  have 
ached  to  hold  you  close — my  rose,  my  star,  my 
very  soul! 


346          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

"All  my  life  has  been  lived  only  for  this;  to 
find  you  and  to  tell  you  what  I  tell  you  now.  I 
have  no  gift  of  words — I  'm  only  an  awkward  sol 
dier,  but  with  all  my  life  I  love  you.  Poets  may 
find  new  words  for  it,  but  there  is  nothing  else  for 
a  man  to  say.  Just  those  three  words,  '  I  love 
you,'  to  hold  the  universe  and  to  measure  it,  for 
there  is  nothing  else  worth  keeping  in  all  the 
world!" 

Shaken  by  his  passion,  he  stood  before  her  with 
the  moonlight  full  upon  his  face.  His  shoulders 
were  straight  once  more,  but  his  eyes  were  misty 
and  he  breathed  hard,  like  a  man  in  pain. 

The  girl  was  sobbing,  and  very  gently  he  put 
his  arm  around  her.  ''Heart's  Desire,"  he  said 
again,  "I  die  to-morrow — will  you  tell  me  you 
love  me  to-night?" 

"  I  do — -I  do,"  she  cried,  as  he  drew  her  closer; 
' 'but,  oh,  you  must  not  talk  so!  You  cannot  die 
to-morrow — you  are  young — you  are  strong! 
Don't!  Don't!  I  must  not  let  you  misunder 
stand  !  It  is  not  what  you  think ! ' ' 

His  cry  of  joy  changed  to  an  inarticulate  mur 
mur,  and  his  arms  stiffened  about  her  as  she 
stood  with  her  face  against  his  breast.  "I  must 
be  a  stone,"  she  sobbed,  "  or  I  would  care.  Don't 
think  I  have  n't  known,  for  I  have ;  but  I ' ve  been 


The  Last  Day  in  the  Fort        347 

afraid — I  've  always  been  afraid  to  care,  and  now 
I  've  grown  so  hard  I  can't !  Pity  me — be  kind  to 
me — I  cannot  care,  and  on  my  soul  I  wish  I 
could!" 

His  arms  fell  to  his  sides  and  she  was  free. 
Half  fearfully  she  lifted  her  lovely,  tear-stained 
face  to  his.  "  I  wish  I  could ! "  she  sobbed.  "  Be 
lieve  me,  upon  my  soul,  I  wish  I  could!" 

"  Heart's  Desire,  I  would  have  no  words  of 
mine  bring  tears  to  your  dear  eyes.  To  see  you  so 
is  worse  than  death  to  me.  I  was  a  fool  and  a 
brute  to  speak,  but  the  words  would  come.  I 
have  known  you  were  not  for  me.  I  have  walked 
in  the  mire,  and  you  are  a  star;  but  sometimes 
men  dream  that  even  a  star  may  descend  to  lift 
one  up.  Forget  it,  Sweet,  forget  that  I  was  mad, 
and  if  you  can,  forgive  me!" 

"I  never  shall  forget,"  she  answered,  with  her 
lips  still  quivering,  "for  it  is  the  sweetest  thing 
God  has  yet  given  to  me.  But  all  my  life  I  have 
been  afraid  to  trust,  afraid  to  yield,  and  now, 
when  I  would,  I  cannot.  It  is  my  punishment, 
and  even  though  I  hurt  you,  I  must  be  honest 
with  you." 

"Sweetheart,  the  hurt  is  naught — it  is  a  kind 
ness  since  it  comes  from  you.  I  ask  your  pardon, 
and  remember  I  shall  never  speak  of  it  again. 


348          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Others,  perhaps,  would  say  I  have  had  enough — 
my  youth,  my  strength,  and  all  that  makes  life 
fair.  I  have  served  my  country  well  and  to 
morrow  I  die  fighting,  as  soldiers  pray  that  they 
may.  Women  have  loved  me,  and  yet —  My 
darling,  I  die  to-morrow — ah,  kiss  me  just  once 
for  to-night!" 

She  was  very  near  him,  but  she  turned  her  face 
away.  "No,"  she  whispered,  "I  can't.  I  will 
give  you  nothing  unless  I  give  you  all." 

"So  let  it  be,"  he  sighed.  He  put  his  arm 
around  her  again,  and  she  tried  to  move  away, 
but  he  held  her  fast.  "Don't  be  afraid  of  me," 
he  said.  "  Dear  Heart,  can't  you  trust  me?  You 
might  lay  your  sweet  lips  full  on  mine,  and  yet 
mine  would  not  answer  unless  you  said  they 
might.  I  just  want  to  tell  you  this.  I  can  see 
no  farther  than  to-morrow,  and  after  that — I  do 
not  know.  But  I  'm  not  afraid  of  death,  nor  hell, 
nor  of  God  Himself,  because  I  take  with  me  these 
two  things.  I  think  all  else  will  be  forgiven, 
Sweet,  because  I  have  served  my  country  well  and 
I  have  been  man  enough  to  love  you." 

"Oh,"  cried  Beatrice,  with  the  tears  raining 
down  her  face,  "I  can  bear  it  no  longer — let  me 
go  home ! ' ' 

She  went  across  the  river  alone,  and  the  sound 


The  Last  Day  in  the  Fort        349 

of  her  sobbing  came  through  the  darkness  and  cut 
into  his  heart  like  a  knife.  The  dull  stupor  of  the 
day  gave  place  to  keenest  pain.  He  was  alive  to 
the  degree  that  no  man  knows  till  he  is  wounded 
past  all  healing.  Every  sense  was  eager  for  its 
final  hurt.  "How  shall  I  live!"  he  muttered. 
"How  vShall  I  live  until  to-morrow,  when  I  die!" 

He  went  back  into  the  Fort  with  his  head 
bowed  upon  his  breast.  As  in  a  dream  he  saw 
Wells  and  Franklin  sitting  by  a  table  in  the  Cap 
tain's  house.  The  single  tallow  dip,  with  its  tiny 
star  of  flame,  was  almost  too  much  light  for  his 
eyes  to  bear.  The  pine  knots  in  the  crevices  of 
the  stockade  filled  the  place  with  a  lurid  glare 
that  seemed  like  the  blaze  of  a  noonday  sun. 

He  sat  alone  in  a  dark  corner,  muttering,  "  How 
shall  I  live!  How  shall  I  live  until  to-morrow, 
when  I  die!"  Lieutenant  Howard  passed  him, 
but  did  not  see  him.  Then  Doctor  Norton  called 
out,  "Do  you  know  where  Ronald  is?"- — but  the 
Lieutenant  did  not  know. 

There  was  a  stir  at  the  gate  and  Mackenzie 
came  in,  accompanied  by  Black  Partridge.  They 
went  straight  to  the  Captain's  quarters  and  were 
admitted  at  once.  Mackenzie's  face  was  grey  and 
haggard,  but  the  Indian  was  as  stolid  as  ever, 


35°          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

save  that  his  eyes  glittered  cruelly.  Wells  and 
Franklin  felt  an  instant  alarm.  "What  is  it?" 
asked  Franklin,  hurriedly. 

Black  Partridge  took  off  the  silver  medal  which 
Captain  Wells  had  given  to  him  and  laid  it  on  the 
table.  The  light  of  the  tallow  dip  shone  strangely 
on  the  metal,  and  picked  out  the  figures  upon  it 
in  significant  relief.  Then  he  spoke  rapidly,  and 
Mackenzie  translated. 

"  Father,  I  come  to  deliver  up  to  you  the  medal 
I  wear.  It  was  given  me  by  the  Americans, 
and  I  have  long  worn  it  in  token  of  our  mutual 
friendship.  But  our  young  men  are  resolved  to 
bury  their  hands  in  the  blood  of  the  whites.  I 
cannot  restrain  them,  and  I  will  not  wear  a 
token  of  peace  while  I  am  compelled  to  act  as  an 
enemy." 

"Captain,"  cried  a  soldier,  rushing  in,  "the  In 
dians  are  having  a  war  dance  in  the  hollow!" 

"Close  the  gates,"  commanded  Franklin,  "and 
call  the  pickets  in."  He  was  outwardly  calm, 
though  cold  sweat  stood  out  upon  his  forehead, 
and  Captain  Wells  stood  by  in  silent  distress. 
Before  any  one  had  time  to  speak,  Black  Partridge 
was  gone.  He  passed  through  the  gates  almost 
at  the  moment  they  rumbled  into  place,  and  fled 
like  a  deer  to  join  his  people. 


The  Last  Day  in  the  Fort        351 

"I  suppose,"  said  the  trader,  "that  in  the  face 
of  this  you  will  not  march  to-morrow." 

"  Yes,"  cried  the  Captain,  in  a  voice  that  rang; 
"we  march  to-morrow  in  spite  of  hell!" 

Beside  himself  with  fear,  anger,  and  pain,  Mac 
kenzie  rushed  out  and  told  the  first  soldier  he  met 
all  that  had  passed.  In  an  instant  there  was  the 
sound  of  hurrying  feet  and  the  Fort  was  aflame 
with  rebellion.  "Wells,"  said  Franklin,  quietly, 
"  I  wish  you'd  go  to  the  barracks.  You  may  be 
needed  there." 

But  the  barracks  were  empty.  As  the  guns 
thundered  the  signal  for  the  pickets  to  return,  the 
men  gathered  around  Ronald.  Instinctively,  in 
times  of  trouble,  they  looked  to  him. 

"Go  to  the  barracks,  boys,"  he  said,  in  a  low 
tone, ' '  and  wait  for  me  there.  I '  11  do  what  I  can. ' ' 

A  white  figure  appeared  at  a  window  and  the 
Lieutenant  went  in  to  speak  to  Katherine.  Doc 
tor  Norton  went  straight  to  the  Captain. 

Franklin's  eyes  were  blazing  and  his  body  was 
tense.  The  martial  spirit  of  the  frontier  had  set 
his  blood  aflame.  His  fingers  fairly  itched  for  his 
sword,  and  his  hands  were  clenched.  "Captain," 
said  the  Doctor,  calmly,  " is  there  no  other  way?" 

"No,"  cried  Franklin;  "there  is  no  other  way! 
Are  you  a  coward  that  you  ask  me  this?" 


352  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

The  Doctor  laughed  unpleasantly,  and  went  out 
without  another  word.  Hardly  had  his  footsteps 
died  away  before  Lieutenant  Howard  came  in, 
white  to  the  lips  with  wrath. 

uls  this  true?"  he  shouted.  "Do  we  march 
to-morrow,  with  our  women  and  children,  when 
the  Indians  have  declared  war?" 

"Yes,"  said  Franklin,  meeting  his  gaze  stead 
ily,  "we  do." 

"  Captain,  this  is  madness.  The  men  will  never 
go.  It  is  certain  death  to  leave  the  Fort.  Your 
orders  will  not  be  obeyed,  if  it  comes  to  that." 

"  Lieutenant  Howard,  my  orders  will  be  obeyed. 
The  man  who  refuses  will  be  shot." 

"Captain,  can't  you  listen  to  reason?  Our 
force  is  small.  We  never  can  cope  with  those 
fiends  that  even  now  are  having  their  war-dance 
in  the  hollow.  I  said  it  was  certain  death,  but 
death  in  itself  is  nothing  to  fear.  Torture  waits 
for  us — for  our  women  and  children.  Captain, 
change  the  order — stay ! ' ' 

"Sir,  I  have  my  orders." 

The  Lieutenant  turned  away.  "Stop!"  com 
manded  the  Captain.  "You  need  not  go  to  the 
men.  I  am  in  command  of  this  Fort  and  I  will 
have  no  mutiny.  The  soldier  who  attempts  to 
disobey  my  orders  will  be  shot  down  like  a  dog, 


The  Last  Day  in  the  Fort        353 

be  he  officer  or  man.  We  march  to-morrow,  if  I 
go  alone!" 

The  Lieutenant  staggered  out  and  almost 
into  the  Ensign's  arms.  "Ronald,"  he  pleaded 
thickly,  "go  to  the  Captain.  See  if  you  cannot 
do  something  to  save  us  all.  Don't  ask  for  our 
selves — he  is  pitiless  there — but  the  women  and 
the  children — "  His  voice  broke  at  the  words, 
but  he  kept  on.  "Ronald,  for  God's  sake,  go!" 

The  thought  of  Beatrice's  danger  stirred  the 
Ensign's  blood  to  fever  heat,  and  he  rushed  into 
the  house  like  a  madman.  "  Captain !"  he  cried. 

There  was  an  instant  of  tense  silence.  A  tor 
rent  of  words  was  on  Ronald's  lips,  but  the  Cap 
tain  raised  his  hand.  "I  suppose,"  he  said 
coolly,  "  that  you  are  merely  following  the  general 
tendency.  Mackenzie,  Norton,  and  the  Lieuten 
ant  have  all  been  here  to  suggest  that  I  disobey 
my  orders.  Is  that  your  purpose,  also?" 

"Yes,"  shouted  Ronald,  "it  is!" 

"  By  what  right  do  you  presume  to  offer  un 
asked  advice  to  your  superior  officer?" 

"By  the  right  of  one  who  has  kept  your  men 
from  mutiny ! ' ' 

The  Captain  cleared  his  throat.     "Well?" 

"I  have  no  plea  to  make  for  myself,  Captain. 
I  have  come  to  ask  at  your  hands  the  lives  of  the 


354          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

women  and  children  who  are  under  our  protec 
tion — to  ask  you  not  to  betray  the  most  sacred 
trust  that  can  be  given  to  man.  You  speak  of 
orders.  As  I  understand  it,  no  time  was  set  for 
the  evacuation  of  the  Fort?" 

"We  have  delayed  too  long  already." 

"Suppose  the  British  army  was  at  our  gates — 
would  those  orders  hold  good?" 

"Sir,  you  are  impertinent!" 

"Captain,  that  medal  which  Black  Partridge 
returned  to  you  to-night  was  equivalent  to  a  de 
claration  of  war.  If  you  are  not  willing  to  act 
upon  your  own  responsibility,  send  Captain  Wells 
and  his  Indians  to  General  Hull  to  ask  for  rein 
forcements.  If  Captain  Wells  is  not  willing  to 
go,  I  am.  I  know  the  provisions  have  been  given 
to  the  Indians,  but  we  have  the  cattle  and  per 
haps  enough  else  to  last  the  garrison  two  weeks 
or  more.  With  reinforcements  we  can  hold  the 
Fort  against  any  force  that  may  be  brought 
against  it.  Captain — let  me  go!" 

"  Sir,  I  have  my  orders." 

"Orders  be  damned!" 

"At  West  Point,"  asked  the  Captain,  hoarsely, 
' '  were  you  taught  to  speak  to  your  superior  officer 
in  that  way  ? ' ' 

"Captain,  I  speak  to  you  not  as  my  superior 


The  Last  Day  in  the  Fort        355 

officer,  but  as  man  to  man.  Our  force  is  small, 
some  of  our  boys  are  too  old  to  fight,  and  we  have 
women  and  children  to  protect.  I  ask  nothing 
for  myself,  nor  for  men  like  me — we  are  soldiers. 
I  plead  for  the  helpless  ones  under  our  care.  I 
ask  you  only  to  wait,  not  to  disobey.  I  beg  you 
to  save  the  women  and  children  from  torture — 
from  cutting  their  flesh  to  ribbons  while  they  still 
live — from  things  that  one  man  cannot  look  an 
other  in  the  face  and  name." 

Franklin  turned  away,  his  muscles  rigid  as  steel. 

"You  have  a  wife,  Captain — a  tender,  loving, 
helpless  woman.  Are  you  willing  to  give  her  to 
the  Indians  and  let  them  do  as  they  please  with 
her?  Suppose  you  had  a  child,  just  old  enough 
to  walk — a  little  daughter,  whose  flesh  was  so  soft 
that  you  almost  feared  to  touch  her — a  child  who 
loved  you,  trusted  you,  and  leaned  upon  you, 
knowing  that  you  would  risk  your  life  to  save  her 
from  the  slightest  hurt.  Suppose  two  thousand 
Indians  in  their  war-paint  were  pounding  at  the 
gates  of  the  Fort,  and  the  knife  and  the  stake  were 
waiting  for  their  victims — would  you  stand  upon 
the  stockade  and  throw  that  child  to  those  beasts? 

"That  is  what  you  are  going  to  do  to-morrow. 
You  will  sacrifice  your  own  wife,  the  wife  of  every 
man  at  the  post,  and  every  little  child,  but  it 


356          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

touches  you  only  at  one  point.  In  the  name  of 
the  woman  who  loves  you — in  the  name  of  the 
children  who  might  have  called  you  father — Cap 
tain — in  God's  name — stay!" 

The  Captain's  face  was  ashen,  but  his  voice  was 
clear.  "Sir,  I  am  a  soldier — I  have  my  orders!" 

With  a  muttered  curse,  Ronald  flung  himself 
out  of  the  room.  He  staggered  to  the  parade- 
ground  blindly,  gasping  with  every  breath.  Then 
the  door  opened  softly  and  a  white  figure,  bare 
footed,  came  quietly  into  the  room. 

"What!"  cried  the  Captain;   "you,  too?" 

Her  gown  was  no  whiter  than  her  face,  but  she 
came  to  him  steadily.  "  Wallace,"  she  said,  "  you 
are  a  soldier,  and  I  am  a  soldier's  wife.  I  could 
not  help  hearing  what  they  said.  Don't  think  I 
blame  you — I  know  you  will  do  what  is  right. 
Captain  Wells  and  I  will  stand  by  you!" 

He  took  her  into  his  arms,  and  then  a  hoarse 
murmur  came  to  their  ears.  She  started  away 
from  him  in  fear.  "  What  is  it?"  she  cried. 

"It's  only  the  barracks,"  he  answered,  trying 
to  smile.  "Come,  dear,  come!" 

When  Ronald  opened  the  door,  where  the  men 
were  drinking  heavily,  the  confusion  was  heard 
to  the  farthest  limits  of  the  Fort.  "Boys,"  he 
cried,  "it's  all  over — there's  nothing  any  one  of 


The  Last  Day  in  the  Fort        357 

us  can  do!"  Lieutenant  Howard,  the  Doctor, 
and  Captain  Wells  were  standing  together  near 
the  door,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  see  them. 

Straight  to  the  middle  of  the  room  he  went,  and 
a  soldier  filled  his  glass.  "  Make  merry  while  you 
can,  my  brave  boys,"  he  shouted,  "for  this  is  the 
last  of  life  for  us!  To-night  we  are  men — to 
morrow  we  are  food  for  the  vultures!  To-night 
we  are  soldiers — to-morrow  we  are  clay!  To 
night  we  may  sleep — to-morrow  we  wake  to  the 
knife,  the  scourge,  and  the  flames !  To-night,  for 
the  last  time,  we  stand  side  by  side— to-morrow 
we  fight  a  merciless  foe  of  ten  times  our  strength ! 

"  If  you  have  neither  wife  nor  child,  thank  God 
that  you  stand  alone.  If  you  have,  load  your 
muskets  and  strike  them  down  at  sunrise  to-mor 
row, — yes,  stain  your  hands  with  their  innocent 
blood  that  you  may  save  them  from  something 
worse.  Twelve  hours  of  life  remains — waste  none 
of  it  in  sleep!  Fill  your  glasses  to  the  brim  and 
drink  till  the  night  is  past.  Pray  that  your  senses 
may  leave  you — that  your  reason  may  be  replaced 
by  the  madness  of  beasts!  Pray  for  strong  arms 
to-morrow — pray  for  a  soldier's  fate!  Drink 
while  the  stakes  are  being  put  in  place  for  us — 
drink  to  your  ashes  and  the  fall  of  Fort  Dearborn 
— drink,  boys — to  Death!" 


358          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

The  room  had  been  deadly  still  while  he  was 
speaking,  but  now  the  cry  rang  to  the  rafters, — 
"To  Death!" 

" Again,"  shouted  Ronald,  "fill  your  glasses 
once  more!  To  the  strong  arm  and  the  fearless 
heart — to  the  torture  that  waits  for  us  to-morrow 
— to  the  red  spawn  of  hell  that  is  grinning  at  our 
gates — a  toast  to  Death!" 

The  door  opened  and  Captain  Franklin  came 
into  the  room.  Every  man  turned  accusing  eyes 
upon  him  save  one.  "To  the  Captain!"  cried 
Wells,  lifting  his  glass. 

He  drank  alone,  since,  for  the  moment,  no  one 
else  moved.  Then,  with  one  accord,  the  wine 
was  thrown  to  the  floor  and  the  sharp  crash  of 
glass  followed  it,  as  the  deep-throated  bell  sounded 
taps — for  the  last  time. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE    RED    DEATH 

ATTENTION !  Forward— march ! ' ' 
To  the  music  of  the  Dead  March  the 
column  swung  into  line  and  turned  southward 
from  the  Fort.  At  the  head  rode  Captain  Wells, 
who,  after  an  Indian  custom,  had  blackened  his 
face  with  wet  gunpowder  in  token  of  approaching 
death.  Half  of  the  Miami  escort  followed  him, 
then  came  the  regulars,  accompanied  by  the 
women,  all  of  whom  were  mounted;  then  the 
three  waggons,  and  the  remainder  of  the  Miami 
escort. 

Mrs.  Mackenzie  and  her  four  children  were  in 
the  bateau,  with  their  clothing  and  a  limited 
amount  of  supplies.  Chandonnais  and  a  friendly 
Indian  were  at  the  oars.  Black  Partridge  had 
appeared  at  the  trading  station  before  daylight, 
to  ask  Mackenzie  and  his  family  to  go  in  the  boat. 
The  trader  refused,  saying  he  would  march  with 

359 


360          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

the  soldiers ;  and  Robert  also  declined  the  oppor 
tunity.  Both  Mackenzie  and  his  wife  insisted 
that  Beatrice  should  take  the  safer  course,  but  it 
was  useless. 

"What?"  she  asked,  "and  leave  Queen?  Not 
I !  We  're  going  with  the  soldiers ! ' ' 

The  other  children  at  the  post,  eleven  or  twelve 
in  all,  were  in  the  first  waggon,  which  was  driven 
by  a  soldier.  The  second  waggon  contained  the 
supplies  for  the  march;  and  in  the  third,  where 
the  ammunition  was  stored,  sat  Mad  Margaret. 
She  had  come  very  early  in  the  morning,  with  a 
small  bundle,  ready  for  departure. 

The  day  was  intensely  hot,  and  the  lake  was 
like  a  sea  of  glass.  The  line  of  march  was  along 
the  water's  edge,  where  sand  hills  intervened  be 
tween  the  beach  and  the  prairie.  The  Potta- 
wattomies,  more  than  six  hundred  strong,  kept 
behind  the  sand  hills  and  were  seldom  visible. 

As  the  little  company  proceeded  toward  Fort 
Wayne,  heavy  hearts  grew  lighter  and  anxious 
faces  became  peaceful.  No  Indians  were  in  sight 
save  the  Miami  escort  at  front  and  rear.  The 
music  of  the  Dead  March  ceased,  and  then  upon 
the  silence  came  Mad  Margaret's  voice,  as  she 
croaked  dismally,  "I  see  blood  —  much  blood, 
then  fire,  and  afterward  peace." 


The  Red  Death  361 

Beatrice  was  riding  with  Robert,  a  little  way 
behind  Ronald.  That  morning  she  had  seen  Mad 
Margaret  for  the  first  time.  "Listen,"  she  said, 
as  she  leaned  forward  to  stroke  Queen's  glossy 
neck,  "  does  n't  that  sound  like  a  raven  in  the 
woods?  She's  a  bird  of  evil  omen,  but,  just  as 
we  were  starting,  she  told  me  I  should  find  my 
heart's  desire  to-day." 

"  I  trust  you  may,"  said  Robert,  gravely.  Then 
he  called  to  Ronald,  but  the  Ensign  did  not 
hear.  He  had  begun  the  day  in  the  dull  stupor  of 
yesterday. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  river  a  Pottawattomie 
chief  crept  up  behind  the  column  and  signalled  to 
the  Indian  in  the  bateau  to  stop  rowing.  He 
did  so,  and  the  company  went  on  a  little  way 
without  missing  the  boat. 

They  were  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the 
Fort  when  Captain  Wells  came  riding  back 
furiously.  "They  are  about  to  attack  us,"  he 
shouted.  ' '  Turn  and  charge ! ' ' 

Captain  Franklin  and  his  company  dashed  up  a 
sand  hill, — a  veteran  of  seventy  falling  by  the 
way, —  and  were  greeted  with  a  volley  at  the  top. 
In  an  instant  the  massacre  was  on.  Under  cover 
of  the  sand,  hills  a  part  of  the  Pottawattomies  had 
reached  the  front,  and  now  surrounded  them  at 


362          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

every  point.  The  Miamis  fled  to  a  safe  place 
when  the  first  shot  was  fired. 

Captain  Franklin  endeavoured  to  mass  the 
waggons  upon  the  shore,  but  it  was  useless,  for  dire 
confusion  was  in  the  ranks  and  each  man  fought 
for  himself  as  best  he  could.  Behind  them  lay 
the  lake — at  the  right  and  left  and  in  front  of 
them  were  six  hundred  savages,  armed  with 
arrows,  muskets,  and  tomahawks.  The  plain 
rang  with  the  war-whoop  and  the  cries  of  the  vic 
tims,  while  shrill  and  clear  above  the  clamour 
came  Mad  Margaret's  voice,  shrieking,  "The  time 
of  the  blood  is  at  hand!" 

At  the  first  alarm,  Chandonnais  leaped  out  of 
the  bateau,  swam  ashore  and  ran  to  join  the 
troops,  leaving  Mrs.  Mackenzie  and  the  children 
alone  with  the  Indian.  He  made  his  way  through 
the  left  line  of  the  savages  with  incredible  quick 
ness,  fighting  as  he  went  with  the  ferocity  of  a 
beast.  A  painted  warrior  raised  his  weapon  to 
strike,  but  the  half-breed,  cursing,  snatched  it 
away  from  him  and  laid  him  low  with  his  own 
tomahawk. 

Now  and  then  Captain  Franklin's  voice  could 
be  heard  giving  orders.  His  plan  was  to  break 
through  the  line,  turn,  and  close  in,  but  the  at 
tempt  failed  and  was  fraught  with  heavy  loss. 


The  Red  Death  363 

Beatrice  was  a  little  way  off,  partially  shel 
tered  by  a  sand  hill.  Her  eyes  were  wide  and 
staring,  and  the  blood  was  frozen  in  her  veins. 
Even  in  dreams  she  had  not  thought  it  could  be 
like  this.  Queen  snorted  and  pawed  the  ground 
impatiently,  but  the  hands  on  the  bridle  were 
numb,  and  there  was  no  chance  to  escape. 

The  exultant  cries  of  the  Indians  beat  upon  her 
ears  with  physical  pain.  The  early  goldenrod,  in 
full  flower  on  the  prairie,  was  broken  down  as  by 
some  terrible  storm.  She  saw  Mackenzie  repeat 
edly  fire  his  musket,  and  always  effectively,  in 
spite  of  warning  shouts  from  the  enemy.  Lieu 
tenant  Howard  was  wounded  in  the  shoulder,  but 
was  still  fighting  gallantly;  and  Ronald,  in  the 
front  rank,  seemed  possessed  of  the  strength  of  a 
madman. 

Robert  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and  even 
then  Beatrice's  lip  curled  contemptuously.  Mrs. 
Franklin,  separated  from  her  husband,  turned 
blindly  back  toward  the  Fort,  but  two  warriors 
overtook  her,  pulled  her  down  from  her  horse, 
and  carried  her  away  screaming. 

Katherine  dashed  by,  toward  the  thickest  of 
the  fight,  for  her  horse  was  maddened  and  utter 
ly  beyond  control.  Doctor  Norton  was  beside 
her,  his  face  streaming  with  blood,  and  he  was 


364          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

making  desperate  efforts  to  reach  the  dangling 
bridle  rein. 

Beatrice  laughed  hysterically.  After  they  were 
out  of  sight,  a  deadened  auditory  nerve  resumed 
its  functions,  and  she  heard  Katherine's  voice 
saying,  hoarsely,  "You  were  right — I  am  glad  I 
have  lost  my  boy!"  The  power  of  thought  came 
back  to  the  girl  by  slow  degrees.  She  must  get 
away — but  how? 

Far  out  on  the  lake  and  a  little  to  the  rear  was 
the  bateau,  where  Mrs.  Mackenzie  sat  as  if  she 
were  made  of  stone,  with  the  children  huddled 
about  her.  Beatrice  dismounted,  and  climbed, 
gasping,  part  way  up  the  sand  hill  that  sheltered 
her,  then  looked  to  see  if  the  trail  were  clear,  but 
the  battle  seemed  to  be  thickest  there.  Isolated 
upon  a  low  mound,  far  across  the  plain,  she  saw 
Captain  Franklin  and  half  a  dozen  men.  Fifty  or 
more  Indians,  with  yells  of  fiendish  glee,  were 
running  toward  them,  and  Beatrice  slipped  back, 
down  the  incline  of  burning  sand,  afraid  to  look 
a  moment  longer. 

She  thought  if  she  could  attract  Mrs.  Macken 
zie's  attention,  the  boat  might  be  brought  near 
enough  to  shore  for  Queen  to  reach  it  safely,  but 
the  flutter  of  her  handkerchief  was  not  even  seen, 
much  less  understood.  If  she  could  not  get  to 


The  Red  Death  365 

the  boat  there  was  only  one  other  way — to  watch 
for  an  opening  and  ride  like  mad  to  Fort  Wayne, 
trusting  to  Queen's  speed  for  her  safety.  It 
seemed  hardly  possible  that  she  could  hide  among 
the  sand  hills  till  dark,  or  even  until  there  was  an 
opportunity  to  try  the  last  desperate  plan. 

Then  out  upon  that  plain  of  death  danced  Mad 
Margaret,  with  her  white  hair  hanging  loosely 
about  her.  "I  see  blood!"  she  shrieked.  "The 
time  of  the  blood  is  at  hand!" 

A  tomahawk  gleamed  in  the  air,  but  fell  harm 
lessly  beyond  her,  and  there  was  a  murmur  of 
horror  in  the  ranks  of  the  Indians.  She  went 
straight  toward  them,  and  they  fell  back,  afraid 
of  her  and  of  her  alone.  Doctor  Norton  saw 
what  she  intended  to  do,  and,  with  his  hand  on  the 
bridle  of  Katherine's  horse,  kept  behind  her  and 
out  of  range. 

Step  by  step,  with  demoniac  laughter  and  unin 
telligible  cries,  with  every  muscle  of  her  frail  body 
tense,  Mad  Margaret  forced  the  Indians  back. 
One,  bolder  than  the  rest,  and  drunk  with  blood, 
stole  up  behind  her  with  his  tomahawk  upraised. 

"Mere!  Ma  mere!"  cried  Chandonnais,  darting 
out  of  the  ranks.  In  a  flash  he  had  wrenched  the 
weapon  away  from  the  Indian  and  started  toward 
Margaret,  hacking  at  those  who  opposed  him. 


366          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

A  savage  cry  rang  at  his  right,  and  Margaret 
turned.  She  saw  the  danger  and  retreated,  then  ran 
like  a  deer  between  the  Indian  and  Chandonnais. 
" Mere!  Ma  mere!"  the  half-breed  cried  again,  as 
the  tomahawk  intended  for  him  sank  into  her 
darkened  brain.  With  the  tears  raining  down  his 
face  he  caught  her  to  him,  and  went  backward, 
step  by  step,  toward  the  place  where  the  others 
were  fighting,  with  the  dead  body  of  his  mother 
in  his  arms. 

Instinctively  the  soldiers  drew  near  him,  but 
kept  to  the  rear.  The  Indians  were  advancing, 
but  no  one  of  them  was  bold  enough  to  touch  the 
man  who  held  Mad  Margaret.  A  moment  more 
and  the  gap  would  have  been  closed,  with  that 
frail  body  forming  a  powerful  defence;  but  a 
warrior,  maddened  by  the  loss  of  his  friends,  crept 
in  behind  Chandonnais  and  struck  him  down. 

Then  the  battle  took  a  new  lease  of  life.  In 
the  midst  of  the  smoke  Norton  saw  Katherine's 
strained,  white  face  close  to  his.  They  were  sur 
rounded,  and  a  company  of  Indians,  brandishing 
their  war  clubs,  were  racing  toward  them.  Every 
avenue  of  escape  was  cut  off.  "  Death  comes," 
said  the  Doctor,  quietly,  wiping  the  blood  from 
his  face ;  ' '  and  here  and  now  I  dare  to  tell  you 
what  you  must  have  known,  that  I " 


The  Red  Death  367 

He  was  wrenched  from  his  horse  and  his  scalp 
lifted  off  at  a  single  blow.  Katherine  turned,  and 
in  an  instant  she  was  in  the  grasp  of  an  Indian. 
With  desperate  strength  she  tried  to  get  possession 
of  the  scalping  knife  that  hung  about  his  neck, 
but  in  the  moment  that  she  had  her  hand  upon 
it  she  was  seized  by  another  Indian,  who  lifted 
her  bodily  and  carried  her  to  the  lake. 

Mrs.  Mackenzie  saw  the  painted  savage  with  the 
body  of  her  daughter  in  his  arms,  then  merciful 
unconsciousness  blinded  her. 

Captain  Wells  was  in  the  midst  of  the  battle, 
fighting  with  musket  and  sword.  In  and  out  of 
the  Indian  ranks  he  sped,  wreaking  vengeance 
upon  his  foes.  His  hand  was  steady  and  his  aim 
was  sure.  Warrior  after  warrior  fell  before  him, 
and  as  yet  he  was  but  slightly  wounded. 

A  young  Indian  entered  the  covered  wraggon 
where  the  frightened  children  were  huddled  to 
gether,  and  emerged  at  the  other  end  with  his 
tomahawk  dripping  and  a  look  of  fiendish  satis 
faction  upon  his  painted  face. 

"Is  that  their  game?"  cried  Wells;  "butcher 
ing  women  and  children!  Then  I  will  kill,  too!" 

He  wheeled  and  turned  toward  the  Indian  set 
tlement,  mad  with  the  desire  for  revenge.  "Tell 
my  wife,"  he  shouted  to  some  one,  "that  I  died 


368          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

fighting  like  a  soldier,  and  that  I  killed  at  least 
seven  red  devils ! ' '  Then  his  horse  was  shot  under 
him,  and  in  the  fall  he  was  pinioned  so  that  he 
could  not  escape. 

With  wild  laughter  the  savages  gathered  around 
him,  hacking  at  him  with  their  knives.  "  Don't 
kill  him,"  muttered  one  of  them,  in  the  Indian 
tongue,  "but  keep  him  for  the  festival  to-mor 
row!" 

"Squaws!"  cried  Wells.  "Women!  Pa 
pooses!  Eight  against  one,  and  you  dare  not 
strike  to  kill !  Squaws!"  The  taunt  went  home, 
as  he  intended  it  should,  and  a  tomahawk  put  a 
merciful  end  to  his  suffering.  Then  with  one  ac 
cord  the  savages  fell  upon  the  body,  cut  out  the 
brave  heart  and  ate  it,  hoping  to  gain  his  fearless 
strength. 

One  of  them  passed  very  near  Beatrice's  hiding- 
place  with  a  bloody  scalp  in  his  hand.  By  the 
black  ribbon  that  dangled  from  the  queue,  she 
knew  that  Captain  Wells  had  met  the  fate  he 
feared.  For  a  moment  horror  paralysed  her, 
and  the  metallic  taste  of  blood  was  in  her  mouth. 

Queen  was  standing  as  quietly  as  if  she  were  in 
her  stall,  but  her  nostrils  quivered  with  excite 
ment.  "In  a  moment,  Beauty,"  whispered  the 
girl,  "we'll  make  a  run  for  life."  There  was  a 


The  Red  Death  369 

muffled  step,  then  around  the  base  of  the  hill 
came  Ronald,  followed  by  his  faithful  dog. 

The  blood  was  streaming  from  a  deep  wound  in 
his  breast,  and  he  was  plainly  done  for;  but  he 
smiled  when  he  saw  her,  then  reeled,  and  would 
have  fallen  had  it  not  been  for  the  horse.  Bea 
trice  took  hold  of  him,  and,  gasping,  he  sank  to 
the  ground  at  her  feet. 

The  sand  formed  a  hollow  where  they  were, 
with  the  hill  on  one  side  of  it  and  the  lake  on  the 
other.  Drifted  ridges  of  sand  still  further  screened 
them,  and  it  was  not  likely  that  they  would  be 
seen. 

"Poor  old  Major,"  said  Ronald,  with  long 
pauses  between  the  words;  "poor — old — boy!" 
With  trembling  hands  he  loaded  his  pistol,  and, 
before  she  knew  what  he  was  going  to  do,  he  had 
shot  the  dog. 

"They'd — hurt  him,"  he  explained,  with  a 
feeble  wave  of  his  hand.  "They're  all — over 
there.  The  Captain  has  surrendered,  but — Wells 
and  Norton  are  dead — and  most  of  the  boys.  The 
squaws  are  on  the  field  with — with  the  others. 
They  're  opening  up  the  wounds  with — with  pitch 
forks!" 

His  face  whitened.  Beatrice  put  her  arm 
around  his  shoulders,  and  he  leaned  heavily  upon 


37°          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

her  breast.  "It's  worth  while — to  die: — "  he 
gasped— "for  this!" 

"You're  not  going  to  die,  dear.  We'll  stay 
here  till  night,  then  we'll  go  on  to  Fort  Wayne. 
You  can  ride  Queen." 

Hurt  as  he  was,  Ronald  smiled.  "  I — I  would 
n't  ride  that — that  gun  carriage,"  he  said  with 
something  of  his  old  spirit.  "  Heart's  Desire,  you 
must  not  stay.  At  the  first  chance,  go — ride  like 
mad  to — to  Fort  Wayne — if  you  are  pursued  or 
surrounded — you  know  what  to  do!" 

His  dimming  eyes  wandered  to  the  bag  of  car 
tridges  and  the  pistol  at  her  belt. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  steadily,  "  I  know  what  to  do." 

"Go!"  he  whispered. 

Beatrice  left  him  for  a  moment  and  went  up  the 
sand  hill  to  reconnoitre.  Peeping  over  the  top  of 
it,  she  saw  that  the  Indians  were  all  north  of  them, 
except  a  few,  and  that  the  trail  was  clear. 

"I  can't,"  she  lied,  when  she  came  back. 
"There's  hundreds  of  them  in  the  south." 

The  cry  of  a  wounded  horse  came  from  the  field, 
and  Queen  started  in  terror.  Beatrice  quieted 
her,  then  knelt  down  beside  Ronald.  A  look  of 
ineffable  happiness  came  into  his  eyes  and  his  lips 
moved,  but  she  put  a  warning  hand  upon  his  face. 
"Hush— you  must  n't  talk— lie  still!" 


The  Red  Death  371 

" It  seems  like  heaven,"  he  breathed,  "to  have 
you — near  me — and  to  have  you— kind!" 

The  hot  tears  came  to  her  eyes.  " Don't!"  she 
pleaded.  "Dear  boy,  can't  you  forgive  me?" 

"Sweet,  there  is  naught  to  forgive.  I  would 
live  it  all — to  have  you  near  me — to  have  you 
kind." 

"Oh,"  she  sobbed,  "you  break  my  heart!" 

His  hand  closed  limply  over  hers.  "  You  must 
not  stay — go — go — to  Fort  Wayne!" 

"  I  shall  never  leave  you,"  said  Beatrice,  simply. 

"  Dear  Heart,  you  must — there  is  no  other  way. 
When  you  are  gone — I — I— 

He  looked  her  full  in  the  face  for  a  moment 
before  she  understood.  "No!"  she  cried  in 
anguish ;  ' '  you  shall  not ! ' ' 

"It  is  best,"  he  said.  "I  am  hurt — even  past 
your  healing — it  is  better  than — the  torture — and 
— and — if  you  are  followed,  you  must  do  the  same. 
Promise  me  you  will ! ' ' 

"  I  promise,"  she  answered,  but  she  hardly  knew 
her  own  voice. 

"They  were — in  the  north,"  he  went  on.  "To 
the  southward — all  is  clear.  If  it  were  not  for  me 
— you  would  go." 

He  fumbled  around  in  the  sand  until  he  found 
the  pistol  and  loaded  it  once  more,  though  his 


372          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

hands  shook.  Beatrice  tried  to  take  it  from  him, 
but  very  gently  he  put  her  away. 

'  *  It  is  time, ' '  he  breathed.  ' '  Taps  have  sounded 
for  me.  I  said  I  would  not — not  speak  of  it  again 
— but  you — you  will  grant  me  pardon— I  love  you 
— so  much  that  death  will  make — no  difference— 
I  love  you — with  all — my  soul!"  With  a  trem 
bling  hand  he  put  the  muzzle  against  his  right 
temple,  and  looked  up  into  her  face  with  the  ghost 
of  a  smile.  His  eyes  asked  mutely  for  something 
more. 

Then  Beatrice  bent  over  him,  and  the  kiss  for 
which  he  had  vainly  pleaded  was  laid  full  upon  his 
lips.  He  caught  his  breath  quickly,  with  a  gasp 
of  pain.  "  God  is  very  good  to  me,"  he  said  un 
steadily.  "  It  was  in  my  dream — but  I  did  not 
dare — and  now — Heart's  Desire — good-bye!" 

He  closed  his  eyes.  There  was  a  sharp  crack,  a 
puff  of  smoke,  and  the  boy  was  dead ;  but  the 
supreme  exaltation  of  a  man's  soul  was  frozen  in 
his  face. 

For  a  long  time  Beatrice  sat  there,  sobbing 
helplessly,  with  his  cold  hand  in  hers.  It  was  nine 
o'clock  when  they  started,  and  now  the  sun  blazed 
at  the  zenith.  Mrs.  Mackenzie  and  the  children 
were  nowhere  in  sight — the  boat  was  gone.  Bea- 


The  Red  Death  373 

trice  was  as  absolutely  alone  as  if  she  had  been  in 
a  desert.  "  Oh,  if  it  were  dark ! ' '  she  thought,  and 
then  she  prayed,  in  a  shrill  whisper:  "Dear  God, 
make  it  dark  now ! ' ' 

She  felt  her  reason  slipping  from  her  and  knew 
that  she  must  get  away.  Blinded  by  her  tears, 
she  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  sand  hill  once  more, 
and  saw,  dimly,  that  the  coast  was  clear.  A  few 
Indians  still  moved  about  among  the  dead,  but 
there  was  no  firing,  and  the  garrison  horses,  rider 
less  and  blood-spattered,  stood  quietly  here  and 
there,  apparently  heedless  of  the  burning  heat. 

With  the  start  she  had,  she  was  sure  she  could 
get  away  safely.  Once  on  the  trail,  and  then- 
She  saw  that  saddle  and  bridle  were  right  in 
every  detail,  and  mounted.  "For  life,"  she 
whispered  to  the  horse ;  ' '  for  your  life  and  mine ! ' ' 
She  cautiously  guided  Queen  in  and  out  among 
the  sand  hills  until  she  came  to  the  open  prairie. 
Before  her  lay  the  trail  and  hovering  beyond  it  in 
her  distorted  vision,  like  a  mirage  glimmering  in 
the  desert,  she  saw  the  flag  flying  from  the  ram 
parts  of  Fort  Wayne. 

"Now  then,  Beauty— fly!" 
Like  an  arrow  shot  from  a  bow,  Queen  sped 
across  the  plain,  but  there  was  a  war-whoop  just 
behind  them  and  Beatrice  knew  she  had  been  seen. 


374          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

The  cry  came  nearer  and  she  looked  back.  Fif 
teen  or  twenty  Indians  were  in  full  pursuit  and 
others,  mounted,  were  following  them. 

The  girl's  heart  rose  in  her  throat.  " On!"  she 
breathed— "on!" 

The  unintelligible  cries  of  the  savages  echoed 
and  re-echoed  in  her  ears,  becoming  perceptibly 
fainter  as  she  rode  on.  Then  there  was  an  exult 
ant  yell  and  she  turned  quickly  in  her  saddle. 
The  mounted  Indians  had  overtaken  the  others 
and  seemed  to  be  gaining  upon  her,  but  with  a 
sudden  spurt,  Queen  left  them  far  in  the  rear. 

Beatrice  laughed  hysterically  and  the  sickening 
taste  of  hot  blood  was  in  her  mouth.  Those  on 
foot  had  given  up  the  chase  and  one  of  the  horses 
had  fallen,  but  well  in  the  lead,  with  his  sides 
bleeding  cruelly,  Ronald's  big  bay  charger  thun 
dered  down  the  trail. 

An  arrow  sang  past  her,  then  another  just 
missed  her,  and  she  leaned  forward,  close  to  the 
horse.  Queen  plunged  on,  then  suddenly  snorted 
and  reared  as  an  arrow  struck  her  flank. 

Beatrice  managed  to  loosen  the  barb  and  pull  it 
out,  hurting  the  horse  badly  as  she  did  so,  and  in 
the  meantime  the  enemy  gained  upon  her.  An 
other  arrow,  shot  from  the  right,  pierced  Queen's 
quivering  side,  and  Beatrice,  hopeless  and  despair- 


The  Red  Death  375 

ing,  reined  in  long  enough  to  tear  it  out.  She  was 
sick  at  the  sight  of  Queen's  blood-stained  body 
and  the  savage  who  rode  Ronald's  horse  was 
almost  within  range. 

She  turned,  held  her  pistol  steadily,  and  waited. 
Queen  was  almost  exhausted  and  breathed  heavily. 
Spurred  on  to  new  effort,  the  other  Indians 
emerged  from  a  cloud  of  dust  and  galloped  to 
ward  their  leader. 

A  tomahawk  whizzed  past  her  and  sank  into  the 
sand.  Then  she  fired,  and  with  a  cry  of  pain,  the 
Indian  dropped  from  his  horse. 

Without  waiting  for  the  word,  Queen  started  on 
at  a  furious  pace,  but  in  spite  of  it,  Beatrice  man 
aged  to  load  her  pistol  again.  She  looked  back 
only  once,  for  she  could  hear  the  hoof -beats  behind 
her.  Ronald's  horse,  with  a  new  rider,  was  again 
in  the  lead,  and  the  rest  were  close  upon  his  heels. 

Inch  by  inch  they  gained  upon  her  and  mutter- 
ings  of  hideous  portent  reached  her  ears.  Queen's 
strength  was  rapidly  failing,  and  when  an  arrow 
struck  her  in  the  leg,  the  gallant  little  horse  stum 
bled  and  fell.  A  tomahawk  gleamed  just  beyond 
them  and  at  the  same  instant  an  arrow  grazed 
the  girl's  left  arm. 

Blind  with  pain,  she  staggered  to  her  feet,  put 
the  muzzle  between  Queen's  pleading,  agonized 


376  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

eyes,  and  fired.  The  horse  rolled  over,  dead,  and 
Beatrice  loaded  once  more,  thinking  grimly,  as 
she  did  so,  that  there  was  just  time. 

She  raised  the  pistol,  felt  the  burning  circle  of 
the  muzzle  against  her  temple,  and  turned  for 
one  last  look  at  the  world  that  once  had  seemed 
so  fair.  The  Indians  were  almost  upon  her,  but 
far  out  on  the  plain  was  a  man  with  neither  hat 
nor  coat,  riding  furiously,  and  the  pistol  fell  from 
her  nerveless  hand. 

"Robert!"  she  cried,  as  if  he  could  hear.  "Go 
back!" 

All  at  once  she  saw  what  he  meant  to  do.  Al 
ready  he  had  turned  a  little  toward  the  lake, 
hoping  to  cut  them  off. 

"Oh  God!"  breathed  Beatrice.  "And  I  called 
him  a  coward!" 

The  Indians  now  were  not  more  than  three 
hundred  feet  away,  but  when  they  saw  him  corn 
ing  they  swerved  away  from  Beatrice  and  rode 
toward  him.  Robert  turned  straight  east  at  a 
plunging  gallop,  then  there  was  a  sharp  report 
from  his  musket  and  a  savage  fell  dead. 

Then  he  threw  away  the  musket,  pulled  out  his 
pistol,  fired  and  wounded  another.  A  tomahawk 
grazed  his  head  and  the  blood  dyed  his  face,  but 
he  kept  on. 


The  Red  Death  377 

From  where  she  stood,  she  saw  it  all.  Hand  to 
hand,  almost — yes,  they  were  upon  him  now,  but 
there  was  a  gleam  of  silver  in  the  sun  and  two  of 
them  fell  back,  wounded. 

" Lexington!"  she  cried.  "His  grandfather's 
sword!" 

All  but  four  retreated,  though  his  horse  was 
hurt  and  well-nigh  spent.  His  next  shot  missed 
fire  and  his  pistol  was  snatched  out  of  his  hand, 
but  the  keen  blade  shone  once  more  and  another 
was  dismounted. 

The  blood  streamed  from  his  wound  as  he 
dashed  toward  her,  gaining  upon  the  two  who 
were  pursuing  him.  All  at  once  he  stopped  in 
his  mad  pace,  turned,  and  with  a  single  swift  cut 
struck  down  the  one  nearest  him.  With  a  wild 
war-whoop  the  second  Indian  signalled  to  another 
who  stood  beside  his  dead  horse,  far  out  on  the 
plain,  but  there  was  no  answer.  Quick  as  a  flash 
Beatrice  ran  toward  them,  aimed  steadily,  fired, 
and  the  last  Indian  fell,  mortally  wounded. 

"Thank  God!"  cried  Robert,  as  he  fell  from 
his  horse.  "You  are  safe!" 

They  stood  alone  upon  the  desolate  plain, 
looking  into  each  other's  eyes.  Robert's  clothes 
were  torn  and  cut,  and  his  face  was  black 


378          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

with  blood  and  dust,  but  he  seemed  like  a  god  to 
her. 

"  You  saved  me,"  she  murmured,  with  parched 
lips.  "  How  did  you  save  me? " 

"You  were  like  another  Beatrice,"  he  whis 
pered, — "you  led  me  through  hell!" 

Face  to  face  at  last,  after  all  the  misunder 
standings,  Beatrice  saw  him  as  he  was.  The  ter 
rors  of  the  day  were  temporarily  forgotten,  as 
when  one  wakes  from  a  horrible  dream  to  a  new  joy. 
Something  stirred  in  the  girl's  heart  and  sprang, 
full-fledged,  into  exultant  being.  The  light  in  her 
eyes  confused  him,  and  he  turned  his  face  away. 

"It  was  nothing,"  he  said  diffidently, — "only 
a  running  fight — that's  all.  When  the  history  of 
to-day  is  written,  it  will  be  a  single  paragraph — no 
more.  Two  officers  and  thirty-six  regulars  killed 
in  action,  two  women  and  twelve  children — a  mere 
handful.  No  one  will  know  that  a  civilian  was  so 
fortunate  as  to  save  the  woman  he  loved.  It  is 
a  common  thing — not  worth  the  writing." 

Beatrice,  still  transfigured,  put  her  hands  upon 
his  shoulders;  but,  though  he  trembled  at  her 
touch,  he  kept  his  face  turned  away. 

"Don't  thank  me,"  he  said  unsteadily.  "I 
can't  bear  it.  It  is  nothing.  Perhaps  I've 
proved  that  I  'm  not " 


The  Red  Death  379 

The  girl  put  her  fingers  on  his  lips.  "  You  shall 
not  say  it!"  she  cried.  "  With  all  my  heart  I  ask 
you  to  forgive  me — you  have  covered  me  with 
shame." 

He  turned  and  looked  down  into  her  eyes. 
" Shame,"  he  repeated;  "no,  not  you.  Forget  it, 
Bee;  it  is  nothing.  A  single  paragraph,  that  is 
all — which  has  to  do  with  the  soldiers,  not  with 
me." 

"My  soldier!"  she  said  in  a  new  voice,  "my 
captain — my  king — listen!  No  better,  braver 
fight  was  ever  made.  The  thirty-six  who  were 
killed  in  action  have  done  no  more  than  you ;  and 
some  day,  when  they  write  it  all,  they  will  say  a 
civilian  fought  like  a  soldier  to  save  the  life  of  the 
woman  who  loved  him!" 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

RESCUE 

AFTER  the  first  part  of  the  battle  was  over, 
the  bateau  in  which  Mrs.  Mackenzie  and 
the  children  sat  was  brought  near  the  shore  at  the 
mouth  of  the  river.  When  Mrs.  Franklin  was 
taken  from  her  horse,  an  Indian  carried  her  to  the 
boat,  laid  her  in  the  bottom  of  it,  signed  to  her  to 
keep  quiet,  and  covered  her  with  a  blanket.  She 
was  badly  wounded,  and  her  position  was  well- 
nigh  intolerable,  but  she  was  afraid  to  move. 

Two  warriors  soon  approached  and  demanded 
the  prisoners  which  they  said  were  concealed 
under  the  luggage,  btit  the  Indian  at  the  oars 
assured  them  that  the  bateau  contained  only  the 
family  of  Shaw-ne-aw-kee,  and  they  went  away 
apparently  satisfied. 

Katherine  had  fainted  when  she  found  herself 
in  the  arms  of  a  painted  savage.  When  she  came 
to  her  senses  she  was  in  the  deep  water,  and  the 

380 


Rescue  381 

Indian  still  held  her  in  a  firm  grasp.  She  struggled 
until  her  strength  was  almost  gone,  but  then  per 
ceived  that  her  captor  did  not  intend  to  drown 
her.  Long  and  earnestly  she  looked  into  his  face, 
and  at  length,  in  spite  of  the  hideous  disguise  of 
his  war-paint,  she  recognised  Black  Partridge. 

Another  brave  joined  him,  and  after  a  long  con 
versation  between  them  she  was  left  to  the  care 
of  the  second  Indian.  Black  Partridge  went  back 
to  the  battlefield,  received  Captain  Franklin's 
surrender,  through  an  interpreter,  and  then  re 
turned  to  Mrs.  Howard. 

When  the  firing  had  ceased,  she  was  lifted  out 
of  the  water  and  carried  to  the  shore.  Black  Par 
tridge  took  her  by  the  arm  and  led  her  northward 
along  the  beach.  She  was  drenched  through,  and 
her  clothes  were  heavy  with  water.  A  squaw  had 
stolen  her  shoes,  and  the  long  march  upon  the 
burning  sand  was  exceedingly  painful ;  but  when 
they  came  near  the  Fort  and  she  saw  her  mother 
upon  the  piazza,  at  the  trading  station,  she  went 
on  with  new  courage. 

In  the  dismantled  home  the  survivors  were 
gathered.  Captain  and  Mrs.  Franklin,  both 
wounded ;  Lieutenant  Howard,  also  wounded ;  the 
Mackenzies,  their  children,  and  a  few  of  the  sol 
diers  were  all  that  remained  of  the  company  that 


382          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

had  fared  forth  so  gallantly  only  a  few  hours 
before. 

When  Katherine  staggered  in,  her  husband 
caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  his  hot  tears  fell  upon 
her  face  when  he  stooped  to  kiss  her.  "  I  thought 
you  were  dead!"  he  cried.  "I  never  knew  till 
now  how  much  I  love  you ! ' ' 

A  radiant  smile  illumined  her  white  face.  "I 
thought  you  were  dead,  too,"  she  whispered,  "  and 
I  did  not  care  to  live.  I  wanted  to  be  with  you, 
wherever  you  might  be." 

One  after  another  described  what  he  had  seen, 
and  the  melancholy  details  of  the  battle  were  soon 
told.  It  was  stipulated  in  the  terms  of  the  sur 
render  that  the  lives  of  the  prisoners  should  be 
spared;  but  the  Indians  considered  the  wounded 
exempt  from  that  provision,  and  horrible  things 
were  done  upon  the  field. 

Doctor  Norton's  heroic  efforts  to  save  Kather 
ine,  the  valiant  death  of  Captain  Wells,  Mad 
Margaret's  fearless  dash  against  the  enemy,  the 
half-breed's  gallant  fight,  and  the  courage  of  the 
soldier's  wife,  who  let  herself  be  literally  hacked  to 
pieces  rather  than  be  taken  prisoner — these  things 
and  many  others  were  sadly  recounted. 

Captain  Franklin  assured  them  that  Ensign 
Ronald  was  dead,  and  they  were  glad  to  believe 


Rescue  383 

him ;  but  no  one  knew  what  had  become  of  Robert 
and  Beatrice.  "Forsyth  fought  beside  me  for  a 
while,"  said  the  Captain. 

"And  with  me,  also,"  added  the  Lieutenant, 
"on  another  part  of  the  field." 

"Where  is  my  Tuzzin  Bee?"  asked  Maria  In 
diana,  plaintively.  "I  want  my  Tuzzin  Bee!" 

At  this  they  all  broke  down,  and  even  the  men 
were  not  ashamed  of  their  tears.  Beatrice, 
the  merry-hearted,  whose  birdlike  laughter  still 
seemed  to  linger  in  the  desolate  home — where  was 
she?  "Oh,  God,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Mackenzie,  "if  we 
only  knew  that  she  was  dead ! ' ' 

"We'll  hope  she  is,"  said  the  trader,  brokenly. 
"She  must  be,  or  she'd  be  here!"  He  tried  to 
speak  as  if  he  were  sure,  but  his  face  belied  his 
words. 

Outside,  groups  of  Indians  moved  about  rest 
lessly.  From  sheer  savage  wantonness  they  had 
killed  the  cattle  that  were  left  to  them,  as  the 
troops  turned  away  from  the  Fort.  The  houses 
had  all  been  plundered,  and  incongruous  articles 
were  strewn  all  over  the  plain.  The  finery  of  the 
women  had  been  divided,  and  the  savage  who  had 
Captain  Wells 's  scalp  at  his  belt  wore  Katherine's 
bonnet  upon  his  head. 

Mackenzie,  with  his  penknife,  had  removed  two 


384          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

bullets  from  Mrs.  Franklin's  arm,  and  had  impro 
vised  a  bandage  from  some  old  linen  he  found  in 
the  house.  Katherine  was  badly  wounded  in  the 
shoulder,  where  the  tomahawk  meant  for  her  had 
struck  when  Black  Partridge  snatched  her  away. 
Lieutenant  Howard  had  several  cuts  upon  his  body 
and  Captain  Franklin  and  Mackenzie  were  each 
wounded  in  the  thigh. 

As  some  of  them  had  suspected  from  the  first, 
they  were  British  prisoners,  and  were  to  be  taken 
to  Fort  Mackinac  or  Detroit  very  soon.  "To 
morrow,"  answered  the  Indian  chief  whom  Mac 
kenzie  asked,  "  or  perhaps  the  next  day.  No  stay 
here  long." 

Black  Partridge  had  vanished  as  completely  as 
if  the  earth  had  swallowed  him  up.  The  Macken- 
zies  looked  for  him  anxiously  among  the  Indians 
who  patrolled  the  Fort  and  the  river  bank.  In 
spite  of  the  surrender,  his  presence  was  the  only 
assurance  of  safety  they  had. 

An  animated  discussion  was  going  on  in  front 
of  the  house,  for  a  party  of  Indians,  evidently 
from  the  Wabash,  had  just  arrived.  There  was 
much  loud  talking  and  many  gestures,  and  the 
bleeding  scalps  were  fingered  with  admiring  curi 
osity.  Mrs.  Mackenzie  sat  near  the  window,  shel 
tered  by  a  curtain,  hoping  and  yet  fearing  to  see 


Rescue  385 

Beatrice's  beautiful  hair  ornamenting  the  belt  of 
some  savage. 

The  mutterings  outside  grew  louder,  and  hos 
tile  glances  were  turned  upon  the  trading  station. 
" Mackenzie,"  said  the  Captain,  "have  we  any 
means  of  defence?" 

"Not  even  a  musket,"  answered  the  trader, 
bitterly ;  "  and  that  door  would  n't  hold  more  than 
two  minutes." 

Even  as  he  spoke  a  company  of  Indians  came 
up  the  path.  "Quick,  Katherine,"  commanded 
Mrs.  Mackenzie — "here!"  She  pushed  her  on  to 
the  bed  in  the  next  room  and  covered  her  with 
the  feather-bed,  fearing  that  her  light  hair  and 
fair  skin  would  betray  her  as  a  newcomer  to  the 
more  remote  Indians. 

With  supreme  self-command  Mrs.  Mackenzie 
sat  on  the  bed  beside  her  and  sorted  out  a  bag  of 
patchwork  pieces,  humming  as  she  did  so,  in  a 
voice  she  scarcely  knew. 

The  intruders  entered  and  went  through  the 
house,  peering  into  every  nook  and  corner.  When 
they  were  in  the  next  room,  Katherine  whispered 
to  her  mother:  "Oh,  let  me  go!  This  is  unbear 
able,  and  I  can  die  but  once — let  them  have 
me!" 

"Hush,"  sang  Mrs.  Mackenzie,  to  a  faltering 

as 


The  Shadow  of  Victory 

tune.  "  Don't  move  and  they  will  go  away.  If 
you  stir  it  means  the  death  of  us  all!"  She  went 
on  with  her  work,  scattering  the  gay  pieces  all 
over  the  bed  and  the  floor,  but  the  Indians  did  not 

go- 

They  grouped  themselves  about  the  doors  and 
windows,  effectually  cutting  off  escape.  Every 
one  of  them  was  heavily  armed,  and  their  faces 
were  sullen  and  revengeful.  They  began  to  mut 
ter  to  each  other  and  exchange  significant  glances. 
All  hope  was  lost,  when  the  door  was  pushed  open 
and  Black  Partridge  came  into  the  room. 

''How  now,  my  friends,"  he  said.  "A  good 
day  to  you.  I  was  told  that  there  were  enemies 
here,  but  I  am  glad  to  find  only  friends.  Why 
have  you  blackened  your  faces?  Is  it  that  you 
are  mourning  for  the  friends  you  have  lost  in 
battle?  Or  is  it  that  you  are  fasting?  If  so,  ask 
our  friend  here  and  he  will  give  you  to  eat.  He 
is  the  Indians'  friend,  and  never  yet  refused  them 
what  they  had  need  of." 

Thus  shamed,  the  spokesman  of  the  party  ex 
plained  that  they  had  come  for  some  white  cotton 
cloth  in  which  to  wrap  their  dead.  This  was 
given  them  and  they  went  away  peaceably. 

Then  Mackenzie  had  a  long  talk  with  the  chief 
and  told  him  of  their  anxiety  for  Robert  and  Bea- 


Rescue  387 

trice.  The  others,  guessing  at  the  subject,  pressed 
close  around  them.  "What  does  he  say?"  asked 
Katherine,  anxiously;  but  the  trader  made  no 
answer  until  the  Indian  had  gone. 

"  He  says  he  will  put  a  strong  guard  of  his  own 
people  all  around  the  house  and  that  we  will  be 
safe  here,  but  we  must  strike  no  lights  and  make 
no  noise,  because  some  of  the  Indians  from  the 
far  country  do  not  know  that  we  are  their  friends. 
He  says  the  big  soldier  is  dead,  from  a  tomahawk 
that  struck  him  in  the  breast,  and  that  the  little 
black  horse  is  also  dead  on  the  plains  far  south  of 
here;  but  neither  the  scalp  of  the  paleface  nor 
that  of  her  lover  are  among  those  his  braves  have 
taken.  He  bids  us  to  be  quiet  and  to  wait  for 
news." 

"To  wait,"  sighed  Mrs.  Mackenzie — "to  wait 
for  news !  It  is  the  hardest  thing  in  the  world ! ' ' 

The  heat  of  the  afternoon  was  sickening,  so  the 
curtains  were  closely  drawn,  and  the  little  com 
pany  huddled  together,  scarcely  daring  to  speak 
above  a  whisper,  but  gathering  human  comfort 
and  new  courage  from  the  mere  sight  of  each 
other,  wounded  though  they  were. 

Maria  Indiana  and  the  baby  were  put  to  bed 
for  their  regular  afternoon  nap,  and  some  of  the 
comforts  of  life  were  still  left  in  the  house.  So 


388          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

the  day  passed  on,  with  a  double  line  of  Indians 
around  the  house,  and  the  hum  and  whir  of  mid 
summer  coming  to  their  ears  from  the  fields 
beyond  them,  as  if  there  had  been  no  massacre 
and  there  was  no  such  thing  as  death. 

Robert  and  Beatrice  were  in  the  shade  of  a 
sand  hill,  nearly  five  miles  south  of  the  Fort. 
When  his  horse  had  rested  a  little,  he  assisted  her 
to  mount,  and  walked  by  her  side  until  they 
reached  the  only  shelter  that  was  available.  The 
sun  was  approaching  the  west,  and  the  mound 
kept  off  the  direct  rays,  as  well  as  the  south-west 
wind.  They  were  faint  from  hunger,  and  both 
were  slightly  wounded,  but  otherwise  they  were 
quite  comfortable.  In  front  of  them  lay  the  lake, 
serene  and  smooth,  with  not  a  ripple  upon  its 
glassy  surface,  and  no  reflection  of  the  conflict  that 
had  just  been  waged  was  mirrored  upon  its  waters. 

Robert  was  one  who  recovered  his  strength 
quickly,  and  as  the  afternoon  wore  on  he  began 
to  feel  like  himself.  After  reaching  the  sand  hill, 
his  first  act  had  been  to  cut  open  the  sleeve  of  the 
girl's  dress  and  apply  his  lips  to  her  wound. 

' '  Why  ? "  she  asked.     ' '  Why  do  you  do  that  ? ' ' 

"  Because  the  arrow  may  have  been  poisoned, 
dear." 


Rescue  389 

"Then  you'll  be  poisoned,  too,"  she  said,  draw 
ing  away  from  him. 

"No,  I  won't." 

In  spite  of  her  protests,  he  drew  the  blood  until 
no  more  came,  then  bathed  the  wound  with  water 
from  the  lake,  and  bandaged  it  with  a  clean  hand 
kerchief  he  happened  to  have  in  his  pocket. 
Afterward,  lover-like,  he  kissed  the  fair,  smooth 
arm  from  shoulder  to  wrist,  with  an  exquisite 
sense  of  possession. 

"What  are  we  going  to  do?"  asked  Beatrice, 
after  a  little. 

"We  can  do  nothing  until  night.  Then  I'll 
cover  you  with  sand — all  but  your  head,  and  go 
back  to  the  waggons  for  food  and  ammunition. 
I  '11  get  another  horse,  too,  if  I  can  find  one,  and 
then  we'll  go  to  Fort  Wayne." 

"And  if  you  can't  find  another  horse?" 

"You'll  ride  this  one,  and  I'll  lead  him.  I'll 
get  your  saddle  if  I  can." 

"We'll  never  make  it,"  she  said  sadly. 

"  Yes,  we  will — I  'm  sure  of  it.  Life  means  too 
much  to  us,  darling,  to  give  it  up  without  a  fight." 

The  deep  crimson  dyed  her  white  face.  "  I — I 
had  to  tell  you,"  she  whispered,  "or  you  never 
would  have  known." 

A  long  shadow  appeared  upon  the  sand,  and 


39°          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Robert  saw  the  unmistakable  outlines  of  a  feather 
head-dress.  Beatrice  was  nestled  in  his  arms, 
with  her  face  against  his  breast.  His  pistol  was 
at  his  belt,  loaded,  and  his  sword  lay  near  him. 
"Is  your  pistol  loaded,  dear?"  he  asked,  very 
softly. 

She  started  away  from  him  in  terror.  "Yes," 
she  cried;  but  why?" 

"Hush!"  He  pointed  to  the  shadow  on  the 
sand,  which  stealthily  approached. 

"  Oh ! "  she  moaned ;  ' '  after  all  this ! ' ' 

Robert  rose  to  his  feet  and  went  noiselessly 
toward  the  southern  side  of  the  sand  hill.  Bea 
trice  stood  just  behind  him,  white  as  death.  Then 
Black  Partridge  appeared  before  them,  with  some 
thing  very  like  a  smile  upon  his  face.  "How!" 
he  grunted  cordially. 

The  conversation  which  followed  was  a  veritable 
"confusion  of  tongues."  Robert  knew  about  as 
much  of  the  Indian  language  as  the  other  did  of 
English ;  but,  after  some  little  time,  he  was  made 
to  understand  that  they  were  British  prisoners, 
and  that,  for  the  present,  they  were  safe. 

"Ask  him  about  Aunt  Eleanor  and  the  others," 
said  Beatrice. 

There  was  another  long  colloquy.  "They  are 
all  safe,"  Robert  explained,  finally;  "the  White 


Rescue  '391 

Father  and  his  wife,  the  other  White  Father  and 
his  fair-skinned  wife,  and  the  family  of  Shaw-nee- 
aw-kee.  They  have  been  anxious  about  us,  and 
when  he  goes  back  he  will  tell  them  that  we  are 
all  right." 

By  signs  and  broken  speech  Black  Partridge 
made  it  evident  that  they  could  not  stay  where 
they  were,  and  ordered  them  to  follow  him. 
Robert  demurred,  but  the  chief  frowned  upon  him 
so  fiercely  that  he  dared  not  disobey.  From  a 
voluble  speech  in  the  Indian  tongue,  Robert  gath 
ered  that  Black  Partridge  had  not  forgotten  his 
promise — that  the  memory  of  the  picture  was 
still  warm  in  his  heart,  and  that  he  was  the  faith 
ful  friend  of  the  paleface  and  her  lover. 

Beatrice  smiled  when  Robert  told  her  what  he 
had  said.  "He  knew,  didn't  he?"  she  asked 
shyly. 

They  began  their  long  march  northward  upon 
the  sand.  Beatrice  was  mounted,  and  Robert 
walked  beside  her.  Straight  as  an  arrow  and  as 
tireless  as  an  eagle,  the  Indian  went  swiftly  in 
front  of  them,  looking  back,  now  and  then,  to  see 
if  they  were  following. 

It  was  a  hard  journey  for  Beatrice,  since  the 
dead  lay  all  around  her.  Even  the  Indians  Rob 
ert  had  killed  seemed  to  distress  her,  and  when 


392  The  Shadow  of  Victory 

she  passed  the  spot  where  Queen  lay  she  could  not 
keep  back  her  tears.  Vultures,  with  slow-beat 
ing  wings,  were  silhouetted  now  and  then  against 
the  setting  sun,  as  they  went  from  one  grewsome 
feast  to  another. 

"What  are  those  birds?''  asked  the  girl.  "I 
never  saw  them  before." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  lied  Robert.  "  I  have  never 
seen  them,  either." 

The  wind  had  covered  Ronald's  body  with 
drifted  sand,  and  she  was  spared  the  bitterness  of 
that;  but  the  plain  of  death,  with  its  burden  of 
mangled  bodies,  would  have  touched  a  harder 
heart  than  hers. 

"Don't  look,  darling,"  he  pleaded,  and,  obedi 
ently,  she  turned  her  face  away,  but  the  tears 
fell  fast,  none  the  less,  and  she  could  not  repress 
her  sobs. 

"Sweetheart,"  said  Forsyth,  coming  closer  to 
her  side,  "I  can  bear  anything  but  that.  Your 
tears  make  me  weak — your  grief  unmans  me." 

She  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  struggled  hard 
for  self-control.  Then  he  went  around  to  the 
other  side  of  the  horse.  "  Look  at  the  lake,  dear," 
he  said;  "or  look  at  me  and  forget  what  lies 
beyond." 

So  they  marched,  in  the  full  glare  of  the  after- 


Rescue  393 

noon  sun.  The  pitiless  heat  burned  into  the  sand 
and  was  thrown  back  into  their  faces.  But  Bea 
trice  did  not  once  turn  her  head  to  the  left,  and 
Robert,  looking  past  her,  was  thankful  that  she 
did  not.  Chandonnais  and  his  mother  were  side 
by  side,  locked  in  each  other's  arms.  Their 
bodies  had  not  been  touched,  but  others  near 
them  had  been  stripped  and  mutilated  beyond  all 
recognition. 

When  they  came  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  they 
looked  anxiously  toward  the  Fort  and  the  trading 
station,  but  saw  only  Indians.  A  young  warrior 
met  Black  Partridge  here,  and  Beatrice  was  told 
to  dismount.  She  did  so,  thinking  that  in  a  few 
minutes  more  she  would  be  at  home  again,  but 
when  she  saw  that  they  were  not  going  up  the 
river  she  could  not  keep  back  a  cry  of  pain. 

The  chief  turned  upon  her  fiercely,  and  mut 
tered  angrily  to  Robert.  "Hush,  dear!"  he  said 
to  Beatrice,  but  his  face  was  very  pale. 

They  stood  there  for  some  time,  and  at  length 
a  large  canoe  was  brought  down-stream.  "Oh, 
where  are  we  going!"  she  moaned. 

"  I  don't  know,  dearest,"  answered  Robert,  in  a 
low  tone;  "but  wherever  it  is,  we're  going  to 
gether."  His  fingers  tightened  upon  his  sword, 
that  still  hung  at  his  side. 


394          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

They  got  into  the  canoe,  Beatrice  at  the  bow 
and  Robert  at  the  stern.  Black  Partridge  took 
the  paddle,  and  with  swift,  sure  strokes  they  shot 
out  into  the  lake  and  then  turned  north.  After 
some  time  Robert  ventured  to  ask  a  question,  but 
received  no  answer  except  a  meaningless  grunt. 

The  last  light  lay  upon  the  water  and  touched 
it  to  exceeding  beauty.  The  lake  seemed  like  a 
great  turquoise,  deepening  slowly  to  sapphire. 
Sunset  colours  flamed  upon  the  clouds  near  the 
horizon,  but  their  hearts  were  heavy,  and  they  did 
not  see. 

As  twilight  approached,  the  canoe  moved  even 
more  swiftly  and  Black  Partridge  never  faltered 
at  his  task.  Robert  began  to  wonder  if  they  were 
going  to  Fort  Mackinac,  and  laughed  at  himself 
for  the  thought. 

Now  and  then,  after  a  sudden  spurt  ahead,  the 
Indian  anxiously  scanned  the  shore,  as  if  he  were 
looking  for  a  landmark.  At  last  they  turned  in. 
With  a  grating  of  the  keel  the  canoe  grounded  on 
the  beach,  and  they  got  out,  still  wondering,  still 
afraid,  and  completely  at  the  Indian's  mercy. 

He  signed  to  them  to  follow  him,  and  they  went 
up  the  steep  bank  as  best  they  could,  catching  at 
saplings  and  undergrowth  to  keep  their  footing 
sure. 


Rescue  395 

Once  on  the  bluff  they  turned  northward  again, 
and  Beatrice,  utterly  weary  and  hopeless,  leaned 
heavily  upon  Robert's  arm.  Some  way,  the 
ground  was  familiar  to  him,  but  he  could  not 
have  told  where  they  were. 

It  was  almost  dusk  when  Black  Partridge 
stopped  and  waited  for  them.  They  followed 
him  down  a  little  incline,  which  was  smooth  and 
well  worn.  "Why!"  said  Beatrice,  in  astonish 
ment. 

They  were  at  the  door  of  the  little  house  in  the 
woods  that  they  had  discovered  so  long  ago ;  and 
over  the  doorway  the  silver  cross  still  hung,  its 
gleam  hidden  in  the  darkness. 

The  Indian  spoke  to  Robert,  repeating  each 
sentence  slowly,  until  he  understood.  Then  Rob 
ert  shook  hands  with  him,  and  the  Indian  plunged 
down  the  bluff,  ran  along  the  beach  to  his  canoe, 
and  went  south. 

With  a  soft,  rhythmic  sound  the  splash  of  the 
paddle  died  into  a  murmur,  then  into  silence. 
"  What  was  it?"  asked  the  girl,  still  afraid. 

"We  are  to  stay  here  to-night  and  perhaps 
longer — we  are  to  wait  until  he  comes  for  us.  He 
says  this  is  Mad  Margaret's  cabin,  and  that  no 
one  will  dare  to  molest  us  here.  The  Great  Spirit 
is  already  displeased,  because  by  an  accident  she 


396          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

was  killed.  It  is  not  good  to  touch  her  nor  any 
thing  that  belongs  to  her." 

"Are  we  safe?"  asked  Beatrice,  in  low,  moved 
tones.  "  Can  it  be  that  we  are  safe  at  last  ? " 

Robert  took  her  into  his  arms  and  kissed  her 
twice.  "My  sweetheart,"  he  said,  "my  own 
brave  girl,  we  are  safe  at  last,  and  we  are  together 
for  always.  Nothing  but  death  can  part  us  now ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE    REPRIEVE 

BEATRICE  looked  around  the  cabin  curiously, 
though  its  aspect  was  very  little  changed 
from  her  memory  of  it.  The  rude,  narrow  bed  at 
the  farther  end  was  still  covered  with  the  blue-and- 
white  patchwork  quilt  which  Mrs.  Mackenzie  had 
so  strangely  lost.  The  furniture,  as  before,  con 
sisted  of  rough  chairs  and  tables  made  from  boxes 
and  barrels  by  an  inexperienced  hand.  New 
shelves  had  been  added,  and  these  were  filled  with 
provisions  in  the  familiar  guise  of  the  trading 
station. 

A  bolt  of  calico,  some  warm  winter  clothing, 
and  countless  articles  of  necessity  and  comfort 
were  all  neatly  put  away.  Chandonnais  had  evi 
dently  pilfered  from  his  employer  constantly  and 
systematically.  Whatever  he  saw  that  seemed 
desirable  for  his  mother's  use,  he  had  plainly  taken 
at  the  first  opportunity.  Even  the  children's 

397 


The  Shadow  of  Victory 

playthings  had  been  brought  there  to  amuse  Mad 
Margaret. 

Beatrice  pulled  aside  a  cotton  curtain  that  had 
been  fastened  across  one  corner,  and  was  not  a 
little  surprised  to  find  her  own  pink  calico  gown, 
which  she  had  made  early  in  the  summer.  Rob 
ert  was  as  interested  as  she  was,  though  the  light 
was  rapidly  failing.  He  had  found  a  tallow  dip 
and  kept  it  within  easy  reach,  though  he  had 
his  doubts  as  to  the  wisdom  of  a  light. 

With  an  exclamation  of  astonishment,  he 
stooped  and  picked  up  a  pair  of  moccasins — small, 
dainty,  and  heavily  beaded — the  very  pair  he  had 
lost. 

"See,  dearest,"  he  said,  " these  are  the  moc 
casins  I  had  for  your  birthday.  I  told  you  they 
had  been  stolen,  don't  you  remember?" 

The  girl  turned  her  sweet  face  to  his.  "I'm 
going  to  thank  you  for  them  now." 

"I  don't  deserve  it,  sweetheart,  and  I'll  tell 
you  why.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  then,  but,  some 
way,  I  did  n't  have  the  courage.  I  did  n't  know 
it  was  your  birthday — I'd  had  the  moccasins  a 
long  time,  but  I  did  n't  want  George  to  get  the 
better  of  me,  and  so  I  let  you  think  I  knew." 

The  mention  of  Ronald's  name  brought  tears 
to  her  eyes.  "  I  have  a  confession  to  make,"  she 


The  Reprieve  399 

said.  "  Come  here."  She  put  her  arm  around  his 
neck  and  drew  his  head  down,  then  whispered  to 
him. 

"My  darling!"  he  replied,  brokenly,  "did  you 
think  me  beast  enough  to  grudge  him  that ?  I'm 
glad  you  did  it  and  I  always  will  be.  Poor  lad,  he 
could  n't  have  you,  and  you  are  mine  for  always." 

"  I  know,"  she  sighed ;  "  but  I  like  to  think  that 
I  made  him  happy — that  he  was  happy  when  he 
died." 

"  He  loved  you,  Bee — almost  as  much  as  I  do." 

"He  couldn't,"  she  said  softly,  "for  nobody 
ever  loved  anybody  else  as  much  as  you  love  me  "  ; 
and  he  was  quite  willing  to  have  it  so. 

Shortly  afterward  he  came  to  an  active  realisa 
tion  of  the  fact  that  neither  of  them  had  eaten 
anything  since  morning.  He  lighted  the  tallow 
dip  and  searched  the  cabin  until  he  found  a  gen 
erous  supply  of  the  plain  fare  to  which  they  were 
accustomed.  He  wanted  to  build  a  fire  and  make 
some  tea  for  Beatrice,  but  she  refused,  and  asked 
for  water  instead.  He  went  down  the  bluff  and 
brought  her  some,  but  it  was  so  warm  as  to  be 
almost  insipid. 

After  they  had  eaten,  the  inevitable  reaction 
came  to  Beatrice.  The  high  nervous  tension  of 
the  past  week  suddenly  snapped  and  left  her  as 


400          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

helpless  as  a  child.  "  Oh ! "  she  moaned,  "  the  heat 
is  unbearable— why  does  n't  it  get  cool!" 

She  threw  herself  upon  the  narrow  bed,  utterly 
exhausted.  With  a  clumsy,  but  gentle  touch,  he 
took  the  pins  out  of  her  hair  and  unfastened  her 
shoes.  Beatrice  suddenly  sat  up  and  threw  her 
shoes  into  the  farthest  corner  of  the  cabin.  Then 
a  small,  soft,  indistinct  bundle  was  pushed  to  the 
floor. 

Robert  laughed  and  brought  the  moccasins. 
' '  Will  you  let  me  put  them  on  ? "  he  asked.  With 
out  waiting  for  an  answer  he  slipped  them  on  her 
bare  feet,  not  at  all  surprised  to  find  that  they 
fitted  perfectly.  "The  little  feet,"  he  said,  tend 
erly;  "the  bare,  soft,  dimpled  things!" 

''The  moccasins  are  softer,"  she  answered,  in  a 
matter-of-fact  tone,  "and  I  think  I'm  going  to 
sleep  now." 

For  a  long  time  he  sat  beside  her,  holding  her 
hand  in  his.  They  talked  of  the  thousand  things 
which  had  suddenly  become  important — their 
first  meeting,  their  individual  impressions  of  it, 
and  of  everything  that  had  happened  since.  With 
some  trepidation  he  told  her  that  he  was  mainly 
responsible  for  the  poem  which  accompanied  the 
Indian  basket. 

"  It  was  a  very  bad  poem,"  she  observed. 


The  Reprieve  401 

"Yes,"  answered  Robert,  with  a  new  note  of 
happy  laughter  in  his  voice ;  "it  was  an  unspeak 
able  poem." 

Then  he  described  the  arrangement  which  he 
and  Ronald  had  made  "to  lessen  the  friction,"  as 
he  said,  and  she  smiled  in  the  midst  of  her  tears. 
"Poor  lad!"  she  sighed. 

"Poor  lad!"  he  repeated;  and  then,  after  a 
long  silence,  "true  lover  and  true  friend." 

The  intervals  between  question  and  answer 
lengthened  insensibly,  and  at  last  Beatrice  slept. 
He  stole  away  from  her  on  tiptoe  and  went  out  in 
front  of  the  cabin,  where  there  was  only  a  narrow 
ledge  upon  the  bluff.  He  sat  down  in  the  door 
way,  where  he  could  hear  the  slightest  sound,  and 
deliberately  set  himself  to  watch  out  the  night. 

He  was  physically  exhausted,  but  his  mind  was 
strangely  active.  For  the  first  time  he  was  in  a 
position  to  review  the  events  of  his  stay  at  Fort 
Dearborn,  from  the  night  of  his  arrival,  when  Mad 
Margaret  had  appeared  at  the  trading  station,  to 
the  present  hour,  when  he  sat  in  her  pathetic 
little  cabin,  with  the  girl  he  loved  so  near  him  that 
he  could  hear  her  deep  breathing  as  she  slept. 

"What  has  it  done  for  me?"  he  thought — 
•' '  what  has  it  brought  me  ? "  The  answer  was  *  *  Bea 
trice,"  which  came  with  a  passionate  uplifting  of 
26 


The  Shadow  of  Victory 

soul.  With  a  certain  boyish  idea  of  knight-er 
rantry,  he  had  kept  his  hands  and  his  heart  clean, 
and,  in  consequence,  love  brought  to  him  at  last 
an  exquisite  fineness  of  joy.  In  that  hour  of  close 
self-communion,  his  deepest  satisfaction  was  this 
— that  in  all  the  years,  in  spite  of  frequent  tempta 
tion,  there  was  nothing  of  which  he  need  to  be 
ashamed — nothing  to  remember  with  a  pang  of 
bitterness,  when  Beatrice  lifted  her  innocent  eyes 
to  his. 

4 'Sir  Galahad,"  some  of  his  friends  had  called 
him,  jeeringly,  and,  before,  it  had  never  failed  to 
bring  the  colour  to  his  face;  but  now  the  words 
rang  through  his  consciousness  like  a  trumpet- 
blast  of  victory.  He  was  spared  that  inner  know 
ledge  of  shame  and  un worthiness  which  lies,  like 
bitter  lees,  in  the  wine  of  man's  love. 

" Beatrice!  Beatrice!"  Like  another  of  her 
name  she  had  led  him  through  hell,  and  he  saw 
now  a  certain  sweet  slavery  in  prospect.  Wher 
ever  his  thoughts  might  wander,  she  would  always 
be  with  him,  like  the  golden  thread  which  runs 
through  a  dull  tapestry,  in  and  out  of  the  design, 
sometimes  hidden  for  an  instant,  but  never  lost. 

Aunt  Eleanor  and  Uncle  John — they  had  been 
like  father  and  mother  to  him,  and  he  loved  the 
children  as  though  they  were  his  own.  The 


The  Reprieve  403 

plaintive  lisps  of  the  little  girl  came  back  to  his 
memory  with  remorseful  tenderness,  and  he 
smiled  as  he  wondered,  dreamily,  what  Beatrice 
might  have  been  at  four  or  five.  Swiftly  upon  the 
thought  came  another,  which  set  the  blood  to 
singing  in  his  veins,  and  which  he  put  from  him 
quickly,  as  one  retreats  before  something  too 
beautiful  and  too  delicate  to  touch. 

Captain  Wells  and  Doctor  Norton — they  were 
dead.  And  Ronald — a  lump  came  into  his  throat 
which  he  could  not  keep  down,  for,  of  all  the  men 
in  the  world,  the  blue-eyed  soldier  was  best  fitted 
to  be  his  friend.  They  supplemented  one  another 
perfectly,  each  having  what  the  other  lacked,  and 
enough  in  common  to  make  firm  neutral  ground 
whereupon  friendship  might  safely  stand.  Of  his 
other  friends  at  the  Fort  he  thought  idly,  since  he 
had  not  known  them  so  well,  but  he  was  genu 
inely  glad  that  they  had  survived  the  horrors  of 
the  day. 

As  night  wore  on,  the  battle  assumed  indistinct 
and  indefinite  phases.  Here  and  there  some  in 
cident  stood  out  vividly ;  unrelated  and  detached. 
He  had  spoken  truly  when  he  told  Beatrice  that 
"a  mere  handful"  had  been  lost.  What,  indeed, 
did  such  things  matter  in  the  face  of  history? 

It  was  but  the  price  of  a  new  country,  which 


404          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

courageous  souls  had  been  paying  for  two  cent 
uries  and  more,  and  which  some  must  continue 
to  pay  until 

Like  a  lightning  flash  came  sudden  breadth  of 
view.  What  if  a  thousand  had  died  instead  of 
fifty;  how  could  it  change  the  meaning?  Broad 
and  beautiful,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  unknown 
shore  unmeasured  leagues  away,  stretched  a  new 
country,  vast  beyond  the  dreams  of  empire,  which 
belonged  to  his  race  for  the  asking. 

Something  stirred  in  his  pulses,  uncertain  but 
vital;  so  strangely  elemental  that  it  seemed  one 
with  the  reaches  of  water  that  lay  just  beyond 
him.  Here,  at  the  head  of  Lake  Michigan,  some 
day  there  must  be— what? 

There  was  a  rustle  beside  him,  but  it  was  only 
a  leaf.  In  the  stillness  it  seemed  as  if  it  must 
wake  Beatrice.  Another  near  it  fluttered  idly, 
and  a  white  birch  trembled.  A  sudden  coolness 
came  into  the  air,  then  out  of  the  lake  rose  the 
blessed  north-east  wind,  with  life  and  healing  upon 
its  grey  wings. 

He  went  into  the  cabin  to  put  a  blanket  over 
Beatrice.  Her  face  was  turned  toward  the  door, 
that  her  wounded  arm  might  be  uppermost,  and 
something  in  her  attitude  of  childish  helplessness 
brought  the  mist  to  his  eyes.  The  white,  soft 


The  Reprieve  405 

arm,  with  the  bandage  upon  it,  had  its  own  irre 
sistible  appeal.  Half  fearing  to  wake  her,  he 
stooped  to  kiss  it  softly,  thrilled  with  a  tenderness 
so  great  that  his  love  was  almost  pain. 

He  went  back  to  the  cabin  door,  where  the  wind 
was  rioting  amid  the  saplings,  and  sat  down  again. 
Already  there  was  a  hushed  murmur  upon  the 
shore,  and  when  the  late  moon  rose,  full  and 
golden,  from  the  mysterious  vault  beyond  the 
horizon,  the  lake  was  white  with  tossing  plumes 
—the  manes  of  the  plunging  steeds  that  lead  the 
legions  of  the  sea. 

Far  out  upon  the  water  was  a  path  of  beaten 
gold — that  fairy  path  which  the  little  Beatrice 
had  thought  to  take  when  she  went  to  visit  the 
moon  people.  The  memory  of  that  night  came 
back  with  rapturous  pain — when  he  had  found  the 
words  to  tell  her  what  she  was  and  what  she  meant 
to  him,  as  far  as  words  could  express  the  sacred 
emotion  that  was  kindled  upon  the  altars  of  his 
inmost  soul. 

The  moonlight  shone  into  the  cabin  and  full 
upon  the  girl's  face.  The  childish  sweetness,  the 
womanly  softness  of  her  as  she  lay  there  came  to 
him  like  the  breath  of  a  rose.  A  thread  of  light 
went  higher  and  touched  the  silver  cross  to  lamb 
ent  flame.  Beyond  it,  over  the  cabin,  was 


406          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  ran  up  the  little 
incline  to  the  bluff.  In  spite  of  the  thick  woods 
he  could  see  the  ominous  glare  upon  the  clouds 
in  the  south-west,  and  knew  only  too  well  what 
it  portended.  "Cowards!  Dogs!"  he  muttered. 
"They  are  burning  the  Fort!" 

His  hands  shut  and  opened  nervously,  and  the 
nails  cut  deep  into  the  flesh.  A  savage  impulse  to 
wrest  every  foot  of  soil  from  the  Indians  shook 
him  from  head  to  foot.  Here,  at  the  head  of  Lake 
Michigan — then  the  dream  came  upon  him  with 
the  claim  of  mastery.  "The  baseless  fabric  of 
this  vision.  .  .  .  The  cloud-capped  towers 
and  gorgeous  palaces  .  .  ."  His  thought 
swiftly  framed  the  words,  then  he  laughed  shortly, 
and  turned  away. 

But,  all  at  once,  he  knew  what  he  must  do.  He 
saw  himself  clearly  in  the  van  of  that  humble 
army,  which  has  no  trappings  of  soldiery  or  state, 
but  only  the  weapons  of  peace,  by  which,  from  the 
beginning,  all  men  have  ultimately  conquered. 
The  plough  and  the  harrow,  the  spade  and  the 
pruning  knife,  the  steady  toil  with  hand  and 
brain — here  and  now. 

Step  by  step  he  saw  the  savages  forced  back 
ward,  their  arrows  met  with  muskets  and  the  ring 
of  steel — back  to  the  farthest  limits  of  the  civilisa- 


The  Reprieve  407 

tion  which  at  last  should  sweep  them  from  the 
face  of  the  earth.  It  was  the  dominant  race  beat 
ing  back  the  opposition ;  the  conquest  of  the  wild 
erness  by  those  fitted  to  rule. 

Fired  with  purpose  and  ambition,  he  stood  there 
until  the  lurid  light  in  the  south-west  began  to  fade. 
Not  one  life,  but  the  many — not  the  reaping,  but 
the  planting — he  did  not  know  it,  but  strong  upon 
him  had  come  the  spirit  of  the  pioneer. 

The  moon  rose  high  in  the  heavens  and  from 
the  zenith  sent  stray  lines  of  light  to  touch  the 
cross,  where  the  figure  of  the  Christ,  wondrously 
moulded,  was  eloquent  with  voiceless  appeal.  The 
stars  faded,  as  if  blown  out  by  the  wind,  and  then 
there  was  a  soft  voice  at  his  side:  "  Have  I  been 
asleep,  dear?" 

"You  sweet  girl,"  he  laughed,  taking  her  into 
his  arms;  " you've  slept  all  night — it's  nearly 
time  for  sunrise,  now." 

"  I  did  n't  know.  You  '11  go  to  sleep  now,  won't 
you?" 

"No,  dearest — I'm  not  sleepy." 

"  Neither  am  I,  so  I  'm  going  to  stay  with  you." 

In  the  doorway  of  the  cabin,  with  their  arms 
around  each  other,  they  sat  while  the  darkness 
waned.  The  wind  lifted  her  magnificent  hair  in 
long,  slender  strands,  and  now  and  then,  when  a 


408          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

heavy  tress  touched  his  face  caressingly,  Bea 
trice  laughed  and  pulled  it  away. 

"Don't!  "he  said. 

"You  dear,  silly  boy,  you  don't  want  my  hair 
in  your  face." 

"Yes,  I  do." 

"Why?" 

"Because  I  love  you,  from  the  crown  of  your 
head  to  your  dimpled  foot,  with  all  the  strength  of 
my  soul." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  then  the  girl  sighed 
contentedly.  "  I  never  thought  love  was  any 
thing  like  this,  did  you?" 

"No,  dear — I  did  n't  know  what  it  was." 

"I  didn't,  either,  but,  of  course,  I  wondered. 
From  all  I  had  heard  and  read  I  was  afraid  of  it, 
and  I  thought  it  would  make  me  unhappy,  but  it 
does  n't.  I  can't  tell  you  how  it  makes  me  feel. 
It  seems  as  if  God  made  us  for  each  other  in  the 
beginning,  but  kept  us  apart,  and  even  after  we 
met  it  was  n't  much  better  until  all  at  once  there 
was  a  light,  and  then  we  knew.  It  seems  as  if  I 
never  could  be  miserable  or  out  of  sorts  again; 
as  if  everything  was  right  and  always  would  be; 
that  whatever  came  to  me  you'd  help  me  bear  it, 
and  always  you'd  be  my  shield." 

"Sweetheart,"  he  answered,  deeply  touched,  "I 


The  Reprieve  409 

trust  I  may  be.  It  would  be  my  greatest  happi 
ness  to  bear  your  pain  for  you." 

Far  in  the  east  there  was  a  faint  colour  upon 
the  clouds.  "See,"  she  said,  "it  is  day."  He 
drew  her  closer,  and  she  went  on, — "Think  what 
it  means  to  go  away  forever  from  all  this  horror — 
to  go  back  to  the  hills ! ' ' 

Robert  swallowed  hard,  then  said  thickly, 
"Heart  of  Mine,  I  would  die  to  shield  you,  but 
Destiny  calls  us  here." 

With  a  cry  the  girl  started  to  her  feet.  ' '  Here ! ' ' 
she  gasped.  "Robert,  what  do  you  mean!" 

In  an  instant  he  was  beside  her,  with  her  cold 
hand  in  his.  "What  do  you  mean!"  she  cried. 

"Listen,  dear;  I  am  asking  nothing  of  you — it 
is  for  you  to  say.  To-morrow  we  will  be  taken  to 
Detroit  as  British  prisoners — for  how  long  we  do 
not  know.  The  Indians  have  burned  the  Fort,  but 
some  day,  when  the  war  is  over,  we  must  come  here 
to  live,  for  to  go  back  is  to  acknowledge  defeat." 

The  word  stung  her  pride.  ' '  Defeat ! ' '  she  said ; 
"  and  why?  Why  are  we  defeated  if  we  choose  to 
live  in  a  safe  place  instead  of  in  danger — in  peace 
rather  than  in  the  fear  of  massacre?  Yesterday, 
did  you  not  see?  Only  by  the  merest  chance  I 
am  not  among  them — and  yet  you  ask  me  to  go 
back!" 


4io          The  Shadow  of  Victory 

Her  voice  vibrated  with  feeling,  and  her  breast 
heaved.  Even  in  the  dim,  purple  light  of  early 
morning  he  could  see  the  suffering  in  her  face, 
and  it  struck  him  like  a  blow. 

' 'My  darling,  listen — let  me  tell  you  what  I 
mean.  We  will  go  wherever  you  say.  If  it 
pleases  you  to  live  in  France  or  England,  we  will 
go  there — it  is  for  you  to  decide,  not  for  me.  Do 
you  understand  ? ' ' 

"Yes,"  she  answered  dully.     "Go  on." 

Robert's  dream  was  dim  and  the  fire  of  his  am 
bition  had  dwindled,  but  he  went  on  bravely. 
1 '  We  are  at  the  very  edge  of  civilisation,  dear,  and 
it  must  go  on  beyond  us.  The  tide  is  moving 
westward,  and  we  must  either  go  with  it  or  against 
it.  We  must  go  forward  or  retreat,  there  is  no 
standing  still.  Yesterday  a  battle  was  fought, 
which,  in  its  essence,  was  for  the  possession  of  the 
frontier.  We  have  surrendered,  but  we  have  not 
given  up.  If  we  retreat,  it  must  be  fought  again. 
From  shore  to  shore  of  this  great  country  there 
must  be  one  flag  and  one  law.  Here,  where  the 
ashes  of  the  Fort  now  lie,  some  day  a  city  must 
stand." 

"So,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  harsh  laugh,  "and 
you  would  build  a  city  from  dreams?" 

The  tone  hurt  him  to  the  quick.     "Yes,"  he 


The  Reprieve  411 

answered  steadfastly,  "I  would.  Nothing  in  the 
world  was  ever  built  without  a  dream  at  the 
beginning." 

' '  Well, ' '  she  said,  after  a  silence—' '  what  then  ? ' ' 

"Sweetheart,"  he  cried,  "you  make  it  hard!" 

Upon  the  purple  light  in  the  east  came  gold  and 

crimson,  touched  here  and  therewith  deep  sapphire 

blue.     Little  by  little  a  glorious  fabric  was  woven 

upon  the  vast  looms  of  dawn.     Beatrice  saw  his 

face,  strained  and  anxious,  and  knew  in  her  heart 

that  she  would  yield.     What  Katherine  had  said 

came  back  to  her — "When  you  find  your  mate, 

you  have  to  go — there  is  no  other  way." 

"To-morrow  we  go,"  he  was  saying,  "back  to 
the  hills,  but  that  is  not  the  end — it  is  only  the 
reprieve.  We  must  come  back  here  to  fight  it 
out,  to  finish  the  task  we  have  begun,  to  hold  our 
place  in  the  face  of  all  odds.  We  must  stand  in 
the  front  rank  of  civilisation,  make  our  footing 
steady  and  sure,  carry  the  flag  westward  into  the 
stronghold  of  the  wilderness — make  a  city,  if  you 
will,  from  dreams. 

"Beatrice,  this  is  the  last  time — I  shall  never 
ask  you  again.  We  will  do  as  you  will — this  is 
my  only  plea.  I  ask  you  now,  with  the  horrors 
of  yesterday  still  alive  in  your  heart,  with  your 
wound  still  open  and  sore,  to  come  back  here  with 


The  Shadow  of  Victory 

me,  when  the  Fort  is  rebuilt,  and  fight  it  out  by 
my  side. 

"  It  must  be  done — by  others  if  not  by  us,  and 
if  we  retreat  we  are  shamed.  God  knows  I  love 
you,  or  I  would  not  ask  you  this.  God  knows  I 
would  shield  you,  and  yet  I  would  not  have  you 
shamed.  Wherever  there  is  human  life,  there  is 
also  danger,  but  we  must  make  a  place  where  our 
children  and  our  children's  children  may  live 
without  fear.  Heart  of  Mine,  so  strong  and 
brave,  you  are  not  the  one  to  falter — my  Life,  my 
Queen,"  he  cried,  in  a  voice  that  rang,  "are  you 
not  a  mate  for  a  man?" 

Prismatic  colours  lay  on  the  water  and  the  sun 
rise  stained  her  face.  Far  across  the  pearly 
reaches  a  new  day  was  dawning,  and  she  looked 
at  him  steadily,  as  if  her  eyes  would  search  his 
inmost  soul. 

"Once  more,"  he  said  huskily,  "will  you  come 
and  do  your  part  ?  Will  you  fight  it  out  with  me  ? ' ' 

Love  and  pain  were  in  his  voice — his  body  was 
tense  and  eager,  like  one  who  pleads  for  his  utmost 
joy.  Beatrice  felt  his  courage,  his  passionate  up 
lifting,  and  it  stirred  her  pulses  sharply,  like  a 
bugle  call.  Caught  on  that  wave  of  absolute  sur 
render,  seeking  only  for  the  ultimate  good,  the 
girl's  soul  rose  superbly  to  meet  his  own. 


The  Reprieve  413 

The  first  ray  of  sun  leaped  across  the  water,  to 
touch  her  face  with  transfiguring  light,  and  there 
was  a  gleam  from  the  cross  above  her,  where  the 
splendour  of  the  morning  was  turned  back  toward 
the  altars  from  whence  it  came.  Her  fear  fell 
from  her  like  a  garment,  the  horrors  of  the  past 
were  forgotten,  and  she  saw  herself  one  with  him, 
on  whatever  height  he  might  choose  to  stand. 

Her  burnished  hair  was  like  an  aureole  about 
her,  and  in  her  eyes  was  the  fire  of  victory.  Mate 
for  a  man  she  was  in  that  exalted  moment,  when 
she  leaned  toward  him  with  her  lips  parted  and 
her  soul  aflame  with  high  resolve.  The  eastern 
heavens  illumined  with  a  flood  of  white  light  that 
seemed  like  a  challenge. 

"Once  more,  sweetheart — will  you  come?'* 

She  smiled  and  her  sweet  lips  trembled  as  if 
already  she  felt  his  kiss,  then  clear  and  strong  as 
the  note  of  a  silver  trumpet  came  the  girl's  tri 
umphant  answer.  "Yes,"  she  cried,  "I  will!" 

THE    END 


atxfl  ©ttf 

12°.    (By  mail,  $1.60)    .....  net,  $1.50 

Full  crimson  morocco,  in  a  box  "      2.00 

Gray  ooze  leather,  in  a  box  "       2.50 

Lavender  Silk,  in  a  box        .        .        .  "      3.50 

*'A  rare  book,  exquisite  in  spirit  and  conception,  full  of 
delicate  fancy,  of  tenderness,  of  delightful  humor  and  spon 
taneity.  The  story  is  too  dainty,  too  delicate  for  analysis. 
.  .  .  It  is  a  book  to  be  enjoyed,  and  it  is  so  suitably  clad 
that  its  charm  is  enhanced."  —  Detroit  Free  Press. 


12°.    Gilt  top.    (By  mail,  $1.60)  .        .        .    net,  $1.50 
Full  crimson  morocco,  in  a  box    ..."      2.00 

"  A  gem  in  a  dainty,  attractive,  and  artistic  setting.  .  .  . 
Miss  Reed  is  delightfully  witty,  delightfully  humorous,  de 
lightfully  cynical,  delightfully  sane,  and,  above  all,  delight 
fully  spontaneous.  The  pages  sparkle  with  bright,  clear  wit  ; 
they  bubble  with  honest,  hearty  humor  ;  they  contain  many 
stings  but  no  savage  thrusts.  ...  A  magazine  of  epi 
grams  for  a  rapid-firing  gun."  —  Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

Jitters  of  a  gPCwsijciatx  )  Two 

gow*  g*tte:es  xtf  a  ptusijcian  )  vols- 

12°.    Gilt  top    ......        each,  $1.75 

Full  crimson  morocco,  in  a  box      .        .  "        2.50 

"Miss  Reed's  books  are  exquisite  prose  poems  —  words 
strung  on  thought-threads  of  gold  —  in  which  a  musician  tells 
his  love  for  one  whom  he  has  found  to  be  his  ideal.  The  idea 
is  not  new,  but  the  opinion  is  ventured  that  nowhere  has  it 
been  one-half  so  well  carried  out.  The  ecstacy  of  hope,  the 
apathy  of  despair,  alternate  in  these  enchanting  letters,  with 
out  one  line  of  cynicism  to  mar  the  beauty  of  their  effect."— 
Rochester  Herald. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
New  York  London 


GOOD  FICTION 


Patricia  of  the  Hills 

By  CHARLES  KENNETT  BURROW. 

12°.     (By  mail,  $1.10.)     Net        ....     $1.00 

"Patriotism  without  unreasonableness;  love  of  the  open  air  and  the 
free  hills  without  exaggeration  ;  romance  without  over-gush  ;  humor  and 
melancholy  side  by  side  without  morbidness  ;  an  Irish  dialect  stopping 
short  of  excess  ;  a  story  full  of  sincere  feeling." — The  Nation. 

"  No  more  charming  romance  of  the  old  sod  has  been  published  in  a 
long  time," — N.  Y,  World. 

"A  very  pretty  Irish  story."— N.  Y.  Tribune. 


Eve   Triumphant 

By  PIERRE  DE  COULEVAIN.     Translated  by  ALYS  HALLARD. 
12°.     (By  mail,  $1.35.)     Net        ....     $1.20 
"  Clever,    stimulating,  interesting,     ...     a  brilliant   mingling  of 
salient  truth,  candid  opinion,  and  witty  comment." — Chicago  Record. 

"  An  audacious  and  satirical  tale  which  embodies  a  great  deal  of  clever 
and  keen  observation." — Detroit  Free  Press. 

"  An  extremely  clever  work  of  fiction." — Louisville  Courier-Journal. 


Monsieur    Martin 

A  Romance  of  the  Great  Swedish  War.    By  WYMOND  CAREY. 
12°.     (By  mail,  $1.35.)     Net        ....     $1.20 

"  It  was  with  genuine  pleasure  that  we  read  '  M.  Martin.'  .  .  . 
We  cordially  admire  it  and  sincerely  hope  that  all  who  read  this  page  will 
also  read  the  book." — From  a  Column  Review  in  the  Syracuse  Herald. 

"  Wymond  Carey's  name  must  be  added  to  the  list  of  authors  whose 
first  books  have  given  them  a  notable  place  in  the  world  of  letters,  for 
'  Monsieur  Martin  '  is  one  of  the  best  of  recent  historical  romances." — 
Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

"  Mr.  Wymond  Carey  has  given  us  much  pleasure  in  reading  his  book, 
and  we  are  glad  to  praise  it." — Baltimore  Sun. 


New  York  — G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS  — London 


FICTION 


Lavender  and  Old  Lace 

By  MYRTLE  REED,  author  of  "  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician," 
"  The  Spinster  Book,"  etc. 

12°.     (By  mail,  $1.65)        ....         net,  $1.50 
Full  Crimson  Morocco       ....         net,  $2.00 

Miss  Reed  has  carried  her  lively  style  and  charming  humor  from 
letters  and  essays  into  the  field  of  fiction.  This  is  the  story  of  a  quaint 
corner  of  New  England  where  more  than  one  romance  lies  hidden  under 
neath  the  prim  garb  of  a  little  village. 

The  Earth  and  the  Fullness 
Thereof 

A  Tale  of  Styria.     By  PETER  ROSEGGER,  author  of  "The 
Forest  Schoolmaster,"  "The  God  Seeker,"  etc.     Author 
ized  English  Version  by   FRANCES  E.   SKINNER. 
12°  .........        $1.50 

There  is,  throughout,  that  same  sweet  recognition  of  the  beautiful  in 
life,  even  where  human  existence  is  the  most  squalid,  that  gave  a 
wonderful  quality  to  "  The  Forest  Schoolmaster."  And  there  is  a  true 
pleasure  in  the  story's  happy  conclusion  that  is  born  of  no  playwriter's 
trick,  but  of  a  sense  of  the  eternal  justice  of  things. 

Fame  for  a  Woman 

or,  Splendid  Mourning.     By  CRANSTOUN  METCALFE.     With 
Frontispiece    by    ADOLF    THIEDE. 
12°.     (By   mail,  $1.35)        ....        net,  $1.20 

Madame  de  Stael  wrote  :  "  Fame  is  for  women  only  a  splendid  mourn 
ing  for  happiness"  ;  Mr.  Metcalfe  tells  us  how  a  sweet  little  woman, 
whose  world  is  little  bigger  than  her  husband,  loses  that  perspective 
by  contact  with  the  superficially  clever  young  literary  set  in  London. 
She  is  persuaded  to  write,  and  her  writing  is  attended  with  success,  such 
as  it  is,  —  the  sort  of  success  which  means  much  figuring  in  "literary 
notes,"  interviews  describing  the  privacy  of  one's  fireside,  and  pre 
eminence  among  so-called  Bohemians. 

New  York  —  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS  —  London 


FICTION 


Morchester 

A  Story  of  American  Society,  Politics,  and  Affairs.  By 
CHARLES  DACHET.  12°.  (By  mail,  $1.35.)  Net,  $1.20 
"  Though  unknown  to  the  readers  of  romance,  Mr.  Dachet 
here  shows  himself  to  be  a  master  of  the  craft  of  romance 
writing.  The  action  of  his  book  takes  place  in  an  eastern  city 
which  may  easily  be  identified  with  Pittsburgh,  and  in  several 
of  the  characters  of  the  story,  local  politicians  of  national 
reputation  may  be  recognized.  .  .  .  The  story  on  every 
page  shows  power,  reserve,  and  a  profound  knowledge  of  the 
actualities  of  modern  life,  and  no  little  literary  handling."  — 
Chicago  Interior. 

The  Romance  of  Leonardo  da 
Vinci:     The    Forerunner 

By  DMITRI  MEREJKOWSKI,  author  of  "The  Death  of  the  Gods," 

etc.     Authorized  translation  from  the  Russian,  edited  by 

HERBERT  TRENCH.     12°.    (By  mail,  $1.65.)    Net,  $1.50 

"  Leonardo,  who  is  presented  as  the  hero  of  the  story,  is  a 

figure  of  great  nobility.     ...     A  finer  study  of  the  artistic 

temperament  at  its  best  could  scarcely  be  found.     And  Leo 

nardo  is  the  centre  of  a  crowd  of  striking  figures.     It  is  im 

possible  to  speak  too  highly  of  the  dramatic  power  with  which 

they  are  presented,  both  singly  and  in  combination.     .     .     . 

The  story  as  a  whole  is  a  very  powerful  piece  of  work,  stand 

ing  higher  above  the  level  of  contemporary  fiction  than   it 

would  be  easy  to  say."  —  London  Spectator. 


Typhoon 


By  JOSEPH  CONRAD,  author  of  "  Lord  Jim."    16°.    (By  mail, 
$1.10.)      .......         Net,  $1.00 

"  Its  scenes  are  painted  with  a  vividness  that  leaves  us 
breathless.    .    .    .    It  is  an  extraordinarily  artistic  book.    .    .    . 

Only  a  man  of  genius  could  have  written   4  Typhoon.'  " — 
N.   Y.  Tribune. 


New  York— G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS— London 


book  is  dueTm  tEWtef  date 

oa  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  hnnlr  "~  « 


below,  or 
recall. 


LD  2lA-60m-2,'67 
(H241slO)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


VB  39690 


M536326 


